. 


Ifi- 

/ 


FROM 


THE 


PACIFIC  TO  THE  ATLANTIC, 


BEING    AN 

ACCOUNT  OF   A    JOURNEY    OVERLAND    FROM 

EUREKA,  HUMBOLDT  CO.,  CALIFORNIA, 

TO  WEBSTER,  WORCESTER 

CO,,   MASS., 

WITH 

A  HORSE,  CARRIAGE,  COW  AND  DOG, 

BY 

WAKREJST  B.  JOHNSON. 


WEBSTER,  MASS., 
JOHN    CORT,    PRINTER    AND    BOOKBINDER, 

OVER   POST    OFFICE,    MAIN    STREET. 

1887. 


04. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1887,  by 

WARREN  B.  JOHNSON, 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


/  oZIZ 

Bancroft  Library 


PREFACE. 


The  world  is  full  of  books  of  travel,  adventure  and  romance, 
which  have  covered  almost  every  conceivable  portion  of  the 
known  world ;  most  of  which  have  been  written  by  men  of  cul 
ture,  leisure  and  wealth.  Every  land  has  been  visited,  every  tribe 
and  kindred  of  people  have  been  portrayed,  and  the  people  made 
richer  in  the  stores  of  knowledge  derived  from  their  perusal. 
In  the  accompanying  pages  will  be  found  a  detail  of  travel, 
novel  in  its  character,  performed  by  a  common  man,  of  but  or 
dinary  schooling,  of  a  journey  across  the  American  continent, 
overland  and  on  foot,  accompanied  by  a  horse,  wagon,  cow  and 
dog.  Perhaps,  such  a  journey  will  never  be  taken  again; 
especially,  with  a  prospect  of  meeting  with  such  impediments  as 
beset  his  path  from  the  nature  of  the  roads,  the  means  of  cross 
ing  unbridged  rivers,  and  the  prospect  of  violence  from  the 
beasts  of  the  forest,  and  the  untamed  nature  of  the  Indian.  In 
this  volume,  no  attempt  has  been  made  to  give  a  full  description 
of  the  various  States  passed  through,  or  an  elaborate  account  of 
the  products  of  agriculture,  mining  or  manufacturing  accom 
plished  in  the  western  wilds  of  the  American  nation.  Nor  has 
an  attempt  been  made  to  eloquently  describe  the  habits  and  cus 
toms  of  the  people.  The  story  of  his  travels  is  told  in  his  own 
language,  as  near  as  possible,  to  make  a  continuous  narrative. 
Some  of  his  descriptions  of  scenes  passed  through  are  unique, 
told  in  as  few  common-place  words  as  possible.  Particular 
stress  has  been  given  to  the  conversations  with  those  whom  he 
came  in  contact  while  on  his  journey,  and  with  whom  he  stop- 


it  PREFACE. 


ped  over  night.  At  the  same  time,  he  from  time  to  time  gives 
the  reader  much  insight  of  the  country  passed  through,  that 
most  travellers  fail  to  get  in  their  passage  through  a  country 
while  on  a  more  fleeting  excursion.  He  received  many  courte 
sies  and  attention  from  the  people,  whose  hospitality  was  always 
freely  given  him.  Some  of  the  characters  with  whom  he  came 
in  contact  were  quite  original.  Nowhere  did  he  receive  any  in 
sult,  nor  did  he  meet  with  such  obstructions  as  might  have  been 
expected  in  some  of  the  less  populous  districts  through  which 
he  passed.  As  his  journey  drew  to  a  close  and  he  came  into  the 
more  civilized  States,  he  was  every  where  welcomed  and  the 
people  flocked  round  him  in  curiosity ;  as  his  mode  of  travel 
ling,  with  such  companions,  was  new  and  original  and  looked 
upon  with  wonderment.  In  fact,  it  was  considered  by  some  as 
the  work  of  a  monomaniac  at  least;  it  may  be  questioned  if  any 
other  man  would  have  had  the  courage  to  make  the  journey, 
under  such  circumstances.  It  required  a  determined  will,  a 
patient  plodding  along,  and  a  constant  care  for  the  well-being  of 
his  companions.  Part  of  his  journey  was  a  travel  in  solitude, 
and  he  had  a  chance  to  commune  with  himself  quite  frequently. 
Much  interest  was  taken  in  his  progress  as  he  went  along  on  his 
way,  and  he  was  the  recipient  of  many  kind  wishes,  and  a  re 
quest  to  send  them  a  book  if  he  should  write  such  an  one ;  to  all 
such,  he  dedicates  this  book,  with  the  hope  that  it  will  prove  of 
interest,  if  not  a  scholarly  production,  at  least  a  source  of  in 
struction,  as  well  as  an  acknowledgement  of  the  many  courtesies 
received  from  those  mentioned  in  the  narrative. 

Mr.  Johnson,  the  traveller  and  writer,  is  an  American  by  birth, 
is  sixty-eight  years  of  age,  stands  about  six  feet  high,  weighs 
one  hundred  and  seventy  pounds,  is  of  a  florid  complexion,  and 
looks  what  he  is,  a  true  type  of  the  Eastern  Yankee.  He  is  a 
native  of  Connecticut,  born  in  Woodstock,  and  lived  there  until 
he  was  nine  years  of  age.  At  that  time  he  moved  with  his 
parents  to  that  portion  of  the  present  town  of  Webster,  which 
was  then  called  Oxford  South  Gore.  Webster  was  not  then  m- 


PREFACE.  Hi 


corporated  as  a  town.  Webster  was  incorporated  in  the  year 
1832.  From  that  time  until  the  outbreak  of  the  Rebellion,  he 
was  an  inhabitant  of  the  town.  In  August  of  that  year  he  en 
listed  in  the  2ist  Regiment,  Massachusetts  Volunteers.  In  1864, 
he  re-enlisted  in  the  First  Brigade  Band,  of  the  First  Division  of 
the  2oth  Army  Corps,  being  with  General  Sherman  in  his  march 
from  Atlanta  to  the  Sea.  He  left  Sherman's  Army  at  Fayette- 
ville,  N.  C.,  and  went  into  the  hospital  at  New  York  for  treat 
ment,  where  he  was  transferred  to  Dale  Hospital  in  Massachu 
setts,  and  soon  afterwards  mustered  out.  For  his  disability 
incurred  in  the  army,  he  has  since  received  a  small  pension, 
He  went  to  California  in  1880  at  the  solicitation  of  friends 
and  relatives,  and  took  this  means  of  getting  back  to  Massa 
chusetts,  as  he  did  not  like  California,  and  was  short  of  means 
to  bring  himself,  horse  and  cow  back  to  Massachusetts  by  rail 
road,  which  journey  he  successfully  made,  and  practically 
walked  from  the  Pacific  to  the  Atlantic,  without  any  serious  mo 
lestation.  To  all  who  helped  him,  in  whatever  shape,  is  this 
humble  volume  dedicated. 

W.  B.  JOHNSON. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  i. — The  start,  from  Eureka  to  San  Fran 
cisco 2 

CHAPTER  n. — From   San   Francisco   to  San   Jose 

and  Sacramento 28 

CHAPTER  in. — From  Sacramento  to  Reno,  Nevada         61 

CHAPTER  iv. — From  Reno,  Battle  Mountain,  Wells 

to  Ogden  in  Utah 105 

CHAPTER  v.— The  City  of  Ogden 180 

CHAPTER  vi. — From  Ogden  City  to  Laramie,  Wy 
oming 189 

CHAPTER  vii. — From  Laramie,   Cheyenne  to  Om 
aha,  Nebraska 253 

CHAPTER  vm. — From  Omaha,  Des  Moines,  Daven 
port  to  Cleveland,  Ohio 298 

CHAPTER  ix. — From  Cleveland,  Buffalo,  Albany  to 

Marlow,  New  Hampshire 321 

CHAPTER  x. — From  Marlow  to  Webster  and  Lynn,       360 


IR,  o 


THE  PACIFIC  TO  THE  jlTLjlNTIC. 


CHAPTER  I.     . 

THE  START— FROM  EUREKA  TO  SAN  FRANCISCO. 

On  the  morning  of  the  first  of  June,  1882.  I  started  on 
my  proposed  journey  from  Eureka  City,  Humboldt  Bay, 
California,  for  Massachusetts,  with  my  outfit,  comprising 
myself,  horse,  wagon,  dog  and  cow,  with  all  necessary 
articles  for  the  long  journey — making  the  first  day  the  town 
of  Hydesville,  distance  twenty-five  miles.  In  reaching 
Efydesville,  I  passed  through  Humboldt,  Salmon  Creek, 
Hookton,  Table  Bluff,  Springville,  Rohnersville  to  Hydes 
ville. 

Eureka  is  situated  on  Humboldt  bay,  and  was  first  lo 
cated  two  miles  from  the  mouth,  but  this  was  abandoned 
on  account  of  its  nearness  to  the  ocean,  and  afterwards 
located  on  its  present  site,  five  miles  from  the  mouth  of 
the  bay.  Eureka  was  planted  in  good  soil,  came  up  and 
has  grown  to  be  a  fine  city,  not  large,  but  enter 
prising,  and  has  now  a  population  of  about  7,000.  It  is 
the  shire  town  of  Humboldt  county.  It  has  some  three 
thousand  feet  of  wharfage,  is  beautifully  laid  out  in 
squares,  running  south  to  the  forest,  named  alphabeti 
cally,  and  east  numerically.  It  has  five  hotels.  The 
Vance  House  is  the  leading  hotel  of  the  city,  a  fine  house 


EUREKA. 


inside  as  well  as  outside.  The  Bay  Hotel  comes  next, 
this  also  is  a  fine  house.  The  Occidental  next,  and  so  on. 
There  are  many  first-class  stores  in  the  place.  Recenil}- 
Eureka  has  been  made  a  port  of  entry.  She  has  a  cus 
tom-house  and  port  collector.  Large  amounts  of  mer 
chandise  are  imported  from  abroad  and  distributed 
throughout  the  county.  Many  kinds  of  business  are 
carried  on,  from  the  making  of  leather  to  the  finest  boots, 
and  from  the  i urness  to  the  boot  and  shoe  scraper.  But 
its  main  business  is  lumber.  More  lumber  is  cut  in  this 
place  than  any  other  town  on  the  continent,  and  is  dis 
tributed  long  distances,  in  fact  all  over  the  world.  There 
are  seven  mills  for  cutting  lumber,  five  single  and  two 
double  mills.  They  are  capable  of  cutting  from  40  to  80 
thousand  feet  per  day.  Logs  are  cut  that  measure  from 
three  to  twelve  feet  in  diameter.  Not  many  small  logs 
are  cut.  It  is  the  large  ones  that  count.  Railroads  have 
been  constructed  from  tide-water  up  into  the  mountains, 
to  bring  these  logs  and  dump  them  into  the  sloughs. 
Then  the  small  steamers  take  them  down  to  the  mills. 
There  they  lay  in  the  mud  or  water  until  needed. 

Humboldt  is  situated  on  the  ba}r,  near  its  entrance  to 
the  Pacific  ocean,  and  is  the  oldest  town  on  the  bay. 
Formerly  there  was  a  fortification  here,  which  was  com 
manded  by  General  U.  S.  Grant.  Its  barracks  are  still 
standing.  The  entrance  to  this  bay  is  one  of  the  most 
difficult  for  vessels  to  enter  on  the  Pacific  coast,  owing  to 
the  .changing  character  of  its  channel.  As  you  enter  the 
bay,  two  miles  to  the  right,  there  is  a  high  bluff.  From 
that  bluff  to  the  neck  of  land  which  forms  the  bay,  is  a 
sand-bar.  There  was  a  time  when  the  waters  did  not 
break  over  this  bar,  but  time  has  changed  things  materi 
ally,  for  now  there  is  a  large  channel,  making  a  good  in 
let  to  the  bay.  It  is  enlarging  from  day  to  day.  Over 
nearly  one-half  of  this  bar  the  waters  are  constantly 
dashing.  In  full  tide  the  waters  are  not  confined  to  this 


SALMON    CREEK.  3 


channel  by  the  bar,  if  they  were  it  would  soon  be  washed 
away,  but  is  covered  by  the  waters.  Its  surface  water 
passes  over  the  bar,  not  through  the  channel  as  it  should. 
Salmon  Creek  takes  its  name  from  that  noble  fish — the 
salmon.  In  years  past  they  were  very  plentiful,  but  of 
late  the3T  are  not  so  plent}',  owing  to  the  great  navigation. 
Its  waters  have  become  a  great  thoroughfare.  Steamers 
are  constantly  passing  up  and  down  this  creek,  and 
make  havoc  among  the  fish.  Since  this  time  they  have 
not  troubled  these  parts  of  the  bay.  This  town  has  be 
come  a  great  place  for  cutting  lumber.  It  is  one  of  the 
many  places  where  great  trees  are  felled.  Their  diame 
ters  vary  from  four  to  twelve  feet.  As  }TOU  leave  this 
place  you  leave  Hookton  to  your  right. 

Hookton  is  situated  on  the  southern  part  of  the  bay, 
and  is  noted  for  exportation.  Large  quantities  of  mer 
chandise  are  brought  into  this  place  from  long  distances, 
including  the  southern  part  of  the  county  as  well  as  from 
the  northern  part  of  Mendocino  count}T, — over  the  rough 
est  of  rough  roads  that  I  ever  traveled.  This  road  is 
called  the  "Humboldt  and  Mendocino  Overland  Road  to 
California." 

Table  Bluff"  is  situated  on  a  high  bluff.  Reaching  its 
summit  you  are  delighted  with  its  surroundings.  North, 
south  and  west,  are  the  waters  of  the  Pacific.  The  bluff 
is  not  large,  but  level  and  handsome.  There  are  three 
ranches  on  the  summit.  On  the  north  side,  next  the  bay, 
there  is  an  Indian  settlement.  They  are  frequent  visi 
tors  to  the  city,  are  intelligent,  partly  civilized,  and  en 
lightened,  and  make  good  citizens. 

JSpringville  is  a  small  place,  but  enterprise  stands  out 
plainly.  Indications  are  that  this  village  will  become  one 
of  the  most  delightful  places  in  the  valley. 

Roknersville. — This  is  a  fine  village.  It  is  small  but 
handsome.  All  good  modern  buildings,  constructed  of 
good  material,  one  of  the  finest  in  the  valley. 


HYDESVILLE. 


Hydesville. — This  place  is  second  to  none  in  the  valley. 
It  is  the  termination  of  a  line  of  stages  to  the  city.  All 
of  the  above  villages  are  situated  on  Eel  river  valley,  one 
of, the  richest  in  the  state.  There  is  more  grain  grown  to 
the  acre  in  this  valley  than  any  other  in  the  state. 

Left  Hydesville  June  2d  and  made  Bridgeville  the 
same  day,  having  traveled  twenty-five  miles.  On  making 
this  place,  I  found  that  there  was  a  vast  difference  in 
roads.  To  Hydesville  it  had  been  good  traveling.  This 
day  I  found  my  journey  had  been  over  rough,  hard  and 
dangerous  roads.  After  leaving  H}^desville,  I  came  to  a 
canyon ,  turning  short  to  the  left,  descending  about  four 
hundred  feet  in  less  than  eighty  rods,  then  turning  short 
to  the  right,  ascending  the  same  distance  on  the  opposite 
side.  This  is  one  way  of  traveling  in  California.  Going 
on,  I  came  to  a  large,  broad  river,  and  meeting  a  man 
with  a  team  asked  him  if  it  was  Eel  river.  "Oh  no,  it  is 
not"  said  the  man,  "it  is  the  Vandozen."  "How  is  it 
about  fording?"  "Oh,  it  is  a  good  ford,  but  the  water  is 
rather  deep  now,  with  a  good  hard  bottom."  Went  on, 
and  came  to  the  ford  ;  stopped,  looked  at  it,  and  continued 
to  look  at  it.  All  of  this  time  I  was  thinking.  My 
thoughts  were  covering  a  large  space — from  the  Pacific  to 
the  Atlantic.  "Can  this  be  done?"  I  had  struck  out  on 
a  long,  rough  and  dangerous  journe}7 — from  the  Pacific  to 
the  Atlantic,  with  a  horse  and  wagon,  cow  and  dog.  Can 
it  be  done,  can  this  be  accomplished,  all  alone,  no  one 
with  me  ?  Let  happen  what  will,  I  decided  to  try  it.  I  ap 
proached  the  ford  ;  the  water  was  deep  ;  I  was  not  able  to 
see  the  bottom,  with  a  strong,  swift  current.  There  I 
must  decide,  go  on  or  go  back.  If  I  return  back  I  should 
never  be  satisfied.  If  I  go  on  and  make  a  success,  then 
I  have  accomplished  a  wonderful  undertaking.  I  there 
decided  to  go  on,  and  did.  I  put  my  little  dog  on  the 
wagon,  got  on  myself,  drove  down  into  the  river  and  got 


HYDESVILLE. 


across  all  right.  Went  on  again,  coming  to  the  same 
river,  which  I  had  again  to  ford.  I  did  not  stop  but  drove 
down  into  the  river  and  across  all  right.  Ascended  the 
bluff,  leaving  the  river  to  my  right,  and  soon  came  once 
more  in  sight  of  the  river.  I  am  now  ascending  a  bluff; 
on  my  right  down  hundreds  of  feet  is  the  river  ;  the  road 
is  just  wide  enough  for  one  team  only.  There  is  a  pre 
cedent  established  for  those  traveling  these  bluffs.  It  is 
this :  on  ascending  a  bluff,  mountain  or  canyon,  you  are 
required  to  carry  a  horn  or  a  bell.  On  arriving  at  any 
turnout,  stop,  blow  your  horn  or  ring  your  bell.  Should 
you  hear  no  bell  or  horn  in  answer,  go  on  to  the  next 
turnout  and  stop,  ring  bell  or  blow  horn,  and  no  answer, 
go  on  as  before.  Should  you  meet  a  team,  the  one  as 
cending  is  required  to  back  down  to  the  turnout.  This 
mode  of  proceeding  has  become  a  law,  and  so  understood 
by  those  who  travel.  About  half-past  six  o'clock,  I  was 
overtaken  by  a  team  on  its  wa}r  from  Hookton,  it  had 
been  there  with  a  load  of  wood.  I  asked  the  driver  the 
distance  to  Bridgeville.  He  replied  about  three  miles.  I 
told  him  I  was  from  Eureka  city,  had  left  there  yesterday 
morning  and  *  was  going  east.  Had  found  a  good  road 
from  Hydesville,  but  from  there  to  here,  it  was  the  rough 
est  I  ever  traveled  or  had  ever  heard  of  being  traveled. 
4 'Yes, "he  replied, "from  Hydesville  to  Bridgeville  is  rough, 
very  rough  and  dangerous  to  those  who  are  not  accus 
tomed  to  such  roads."  Soon  I  came  in  sight  of  a  house, 
then  a  little  further  on  two  more.  I  stopped,  inquired 
how  far  to  Bridgeville.  ''This  is  Bridgeville,"  said  a 
man.  "This  Bridgeville?"  "Yes,"  said  the  stranger.  I 
went  on,  soon  came  in  sight  of  a  bridge,  a  little  farther  on 
several  houses.  "What  place  is  this?  "  "Bridgeville," 
responded  several  men.  "I  was  told  a  short  distance  back 
that  that  was  Bridgeville."  "You  are  not  the  only  one  they 
tell  so.  They  wanted  your  dollar,  that  was  what  they 
wanted,  stranger." 


BRIDGEVILLE. 


Bridgeville  is  but  a  small  place,  comprising  a  hotel, 
store,  blacksmith  shop  and  one  other  house.  This  hotel 
is  unlike  other  hotels,  but  it  is  a  place  where  }TOU  can  stop 
over  night,  or  get  out  of  a  rain  or  snow  storm,  and  find 
something  to  eat  and  drink.  The  building  is  cheap,  but 
still  it  has  many  things  for  the  comfort  of  travelers.  If 
you  arrive  late  in  the  afternoon,  you  have  got  to  stop  or 
go  on  to  the  next  village,  a  distance  of  twenty-five  miles. 
You  ask  the  hotel-keeper  if  3-011  can  stop  over.  He  sa}-s 
yes,  and  leads  your  horse  to  a  shed,  takes  him  from  the 
carriage,  hitching  him  to  a  post.  The  traveler  may  have 
some  things  in  his  carriage  that  he  would  like  to  take  into 
the  house  with  him.  He  takes  them  in  and  asks  for  a 
room.  The  landlord  says:  "We  have  no  room  for  you, 
you  can  lie  there,"  pointing  to  a  lounge.  "We  can  give 
you  something  to  eat  and  all  the  whisky  3-011  want,"  I 
was  introduced  to  a  traveler  by  the  landlord,  who  informed 
me  that  the  stranger  was  from  the  city  of  San  Francisco, 
who  comes  to  Cloverdale  by  railroad,  then  takes  a  team 
for  Ukiah,  count3r  seat  of  Mendocino  count3~,  from  there 
to  Eureka  count3T  seat  of  Humboldt  count3r. 

Left  Bridgeville  on  the  3d  and  made  Blocksberg  the 
same  day ;  distance  twent3'-five  miles.  On  leaving  this 
place  we  cross  the  Vandozen  river  again.  Here  we  cross 
a  fine  bridge  built  by  the  county  of  Humboldt.  About  9 
a.  m.,  came  to  a  fine  plat  of  grass.  I  stopped  and  gave 
my  cattle  a  chance  to  nibble  it — cooked  some  coffee  and 
ate  my  breakfast ;  rather  a  late  breakfast.  About  10  :30 
a.  m.,  we  moved  on,  a  very  warm  morning;  indeed  the 
warmest  I  had  ever  witnessed  while  in  the  state.  It  was 
telling  on  my  horse  and  I  was  afraid  she  would  blister  her 
shoulder.  I  am  now  working  inland  from  the  ocean, 
awa3r  from  its  cool  breezes.  Soon  I  shall  be  east  of  the 
coast  range  of  mountains.  To-da3r  1113'  road  has  improved, 
hope  it  will  continue.  About  5  :30  I  made  Blocksberg. 


BLOCKSBERG. 


On  my  arrival,  I  found  that  my  horse  had  blistered  both 
shoulders.  I  thought  best  to  remain  a  while  and  heal 
them  up  before  going  any  further.  I  remained  five  days. 
My  treatment  was  cold  water.  I  bathed  them  continually 
for  thirty-six  hours,  with  good  success.  Had  I  continued 
on  they  might  have  become  sore  and  troublesome.  While 
here  I  tried  to  get  my  cow  shod  with  iron  shoes,  but 
could  not.  The  blacksmith  said  :  "He  could  shoe  her  as 
the  Spaniards  shoe  them."  "How  do  they  shoe  them?  " 
I  asked.  "They  sear  their  feet,'*  he  said.  I  concluded 
to  do  so,  and  had  her  shod  that  way.  It  proved  a  wise 
precaution.  I  traveled  more  than  six  hundred  miles  be 
fore  I  could  get  her  shod  with  iron  shoes. 

Blocksberg  is  a  small  town  comprised  of  a  hotel,  two 
stores,  blacksmith,  wheelright  shop,  two  saloons  and  a  few 
houses.  Saloons  are  well  patronized,  I  counted  twenty- 
two  horses  at  one.  Their  riders  were  inside  drinking  and 
gambling.  "•  I  asked  what  business  they  followed?"  I 
was  told  that  they  "were  wool  growers,  but  their  main 
business  was  drinking  and  gambling."  Those  that  follow 
this  business,  and  they  are  many,  have  nothing  but  gold. 
I  have  seen  piles  of  gold  on  the  tables.  They  do  not  ap 
pear  to  be  afraid  of  each  other.  They  do  not  count  out 
their  money ;  it  is  laid  in  piles ;  they  go  by  the  height. 
Their  money  consists  of  five,  ten  and  twenty  dollar  pieces, 
I  have  seen  heaps  four  inches  high  of  twenties.  Their 
money  lays  on  the  table  until  they  get  through,  with  their 
revolvers  beside  them. 

Left  Blocksberg  on  the  9th  and  made  Alder  Point  the 
same  day,  distance  thirteen  miles. 

Alder  Point. — From  Blocksberg  to  this  place  proved  a 
very  hard  day's  journey,  the  road  being  very  rough, 
hard  and  hilly.  It  was  hard  on  the  cattle,  wagon  and  my 
self.  The  road  had  been  sideling — very  much  so.  It  was 
bluffs,  mountains  and  canyons.  Travelers  do  not  go 


8  ALDER  POINT. 


over  the  bluffs  or  mountains,  but  around  them.  In  laying 
out  this  road,  if  it  ever  was  laid  out,  which  I  suppose  it 
must  have  been,  as  it  is  a  county  road,  their  work  was 
crudely  done.  If  you  desire  to  reach  a  given  point  on 
mountain  or  bluff,  say  Alder  Point,  you  start  at  the  base 
and  go  on  following  the  same  until  you  have  made  a  half 
circle,  keeping  to  the  right  till  you  come  to  a  point  or 
plateau,  you  have  made  a  mile  ;  3'ou  then  turn  to  the  right, 
cross  the  end  of  the  canyon,  this  places  you  on  the 
right  of  another  bluff,  following  its  base  you  travel  until 
you  reach  the  point  opposite  where  }*ou  started,  thus  mak 
ing  a  second  mile,  and  so  on,  until  the  summit  of  the  bluff 
is  reached.  Could  you  have  crossed  the  canyon  at  the 
first  point  two  miles  of  travelling  would  have  been  saved. 
The  foregoing  gives  an  idea  of  the  roads  and  the  mode  of 
crossing  the  bluffs,  mountains  or  canyons  in  northern  and 
eastern  California,  outside  of  the  vallej^s.  I  have  said 
the  roads  were  sideling  and  they  are.  Over  the  road  on 
which  I  am  travelling  the  mail  from  San  Francisco  is  car 
ried  three  hundred  and  three  miles  in  3(5  hours,  nearly  9 
miles  to  the  hour,  by  two  horses  in  a  wagon  that  weighs 
800  pounds  ;  as  this  team  tears  round  the  bluff  it  is  no 
wonder  that  one  rut  is  lower  than  the  other.  There  is  no 
money  expended  on  the  roads,  only  the  bridges  are  kept 
in  repair.  I  am  still  but  a  short  distance  from  Eel  river. 
This  river  is  a  terror  to  those  who  have  it  to  ford.  No 
bridge — no  ferry — it  must  be  forded.  Had  it  not  been 
for  this  river  I  should  have  started  on  my  journey  east  the 
first  of  May.  The  rainy  season  had  been  longer  in  dura 
tion  than  in  past  seasons. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  river  there  was  a  man,  with  a 
wagon  and  four  horses  ladened  with  goods.  He  was  in 
conversation  with  another  person.  The  teamster  came  to 
me  and  said:  "We  had  better  get  this  man  to  pilot  us 
across,  it  is  dangerous  for  us  to  ford."  "What  does  he 
ask  to  help  us  across?"  "Two  dollars  each,"  said  the 


ALDER  POINT. 


teamster.  "Where  is  the  ford,  I  would  like  to  look  at 
it."  "It  is  a  few  rods,  just  below  the  bluffs,"  replied  the 
teamster.  I  went  down  the  bluff,  to  the  river,  looked 
at  it  a  short  time.  I  then  took  Fanny,  my  horse,  from 
the  wagon,  got  upon  her  back  and  rode  into  the  water,  and 
finding  it  much  better  than  I  expected,  continued  across. 
Returning,  dismounted,  put  Fanny  back  into  the  carnage, 
got  on  and  drove  down  the  bank  into  the  river  and  cross 
ed  over  all  right.  The  man  with  the  team  had  just  got  to 
the  river.  I  sang  out :  "Teamster,  come  across  and  save 
your  mone}r."  He  dared  not  do  it,  but  gave  the  man  two 
dollars  needlessly,  to  guide  him  across.  He  might  have 
known  that  if  I  could  cross  with  my  light  load  he  could 
with  his  heavy  wagon. 

I  began  the  ascending  of  the  mountain  feeling  jubilant, 
as  the  fording  of  this  river  had  been  a  terror  to  me  ever 
since  leaving  Eureka.  About  two  miles  from  the  river  I 
met  the  mail  stage,  a  heavy  two-horse  wagon.  I  was  as 
cending.  It  was  not  a  bad  place  to  pass  and  I  gave  him 
right  of  way.  The  driver  sang  out  for  the  road  and  stop 
ped.  I  told  him  he  had  ample  room  to  pass.  He  had 
but  two  passengers  aboard.  The  driver  said:  "That  he 
would  teach  me  to  get  out  of  the  way  for  the  mail  driver." 
With  that  he  started  up  and  came  down  on  the  rear  wheel 
of  my  carriage,  crushing  it  down.  He  did  not  stop  to  see 
what  damage  he  had  done,  but  went  on  his  own  way.  I 
was  vexed  and  felt  badly,  being  all  alone.  Soon  after,  the  . 
man  I  left  at  the  river  came  up  ;  and  seeing  what  a  fix  I  was 
in,  assisted  me  in  placing  my  wheel  back  into  shape,  and 
then  put  my  things  on  his  wagon  ;  we  went  on  until  we  came 
to  a  sheep  ranche.  Here  I  remained  two  days  to  make 
necessary  repairs.  There  was  no  wheelwright  shop  for  six 
teen  miles.  Having  some  tools  with  me,  such  as  an  axe, 
saw  and  square,  I  got  some  timber,  sawing  it  into  splints, 
length  of  the  diameter  of  my  wheel,  and  lashing  them  to 
the  spokes  of  the  wheel ,  tied  them  down  so  as  to  keep  the 


10  ALDER  POINT. 


disc  of  the   wheel  in   its  proper  place.     Next  day  I  was 
again  ready  to  resume  1113^  journey. 

On  the  morning  of  the  10th  I  was  up  early  making 
ready  to  go  onward.  I  carry  a  lariet  for  staking  out  my 
cow.  An  iron  pin,  one  and  a  half  foot  long,  one  end 
shaped  to  a  point  and  the  other  a  small  ring  for  the  rope  ; 
the  rope  thirty  feet  long.  This  gives  the  cow  a  circle  of 
sixty  feet  in  which  to  feed.  I  fastened  the  cow  to  the 
lariet  turning  the  horse  loose.  This  morning  I  went  10  my 
breakfast  and  while  eating  I  heard  a  horse  neigh.  I 
thought  nothing  about  it  and  kept  on  eating.  I  heard 
another  neigh  and  thought  all  was  not  right.  I  went  out, 
saw  that  the  cow  was  quite  uneasy  and  tr}Ting  to  get  loose. 
I  then  thought  that  the  horse  might  have  slipped  and 
returned  back  to  Blocksberg.  I  left  my  breakfast  and 
went  in  search  of  the  horse.  Looking  around;  I  could  see 
nothing  of  her.  A  grove  of  timber  was  between  me  and 
the  house.  I  went  in  and  around  this  grove  but  could 
see  nothing  of  the  horse.  The  cow  had  become  frantic. 
I  made  up  my  mind  that  the  horse  had  strayed  back  to 
Blocksberg.  I  went  for  the  river,  distance  three  miles. 
I  could  find  no  tracks  on  the  way,  yet  still  I  was  sure  she 
had  gone  this  way.  On  the  river  bank  I  found  tracks  of 
her,  and  was  sure  she  had  crossed  over.  I  concluded  to 
return  back  and  get  the  man  at  the  ranche  to  go  after  her. 
On  returning  and  while  on  high  ground,  I  called  out : 
"Stop  horse,  stop  horse,  stop  horse,"  but  got  no  satis 
faction.  I  engaged  the  man  at  the  ranche  to  go  after  the 
horse,  who  did  so.  He  crossed  the  river  and  went  to  the 
barn  were  the  mail  horses  are  kept  and-inquired  if  they  had 
seen  a  stray  horse?  The  man  replied  :  "That  early  that 
morning  he  heard  a  man  across  the  river  hallo  'stop 
horse,'  and  at  that  time  a  horse  was  going  by.  He  tried 
to  stop  it  but  could  not,  the  horse  starting  on  a  good  trot. 
He  took  one  of  his  horses  and  drove  after  her.  After 


ALDER  POINT.  11 


quite  a  chase  he  overtook  and  caught  her  and  led  her  back 
to  his  barn.  She  is  here  in  the  barn  now."  When  the 
ranche  man  brought  the  horse  back  I  asked  him,  "How 
much  for  his  trouble?"  He  replied,  "I  gave  the  man 
across  the  river  for  his  trouble,  one  dollar,  I  ought  to 
have  as  much."  I  gave  him  two  dollars.  This  man  who 
went  for  the  horse  was  the  owner  of  the  ranche.  "How 
large  a  ranche  have  you,  sir?"  I  asked.  "One  hundred 
and  sixty  acres,"  he  replied.  "How  many  sheep  have 
you?"  Four  thousand  or  more."  "And  only  one  hun 
dred  and  sixty  acres?"  "That  is  all  the  land  I  own." 
'•Who  does  own  all  the  land  around  here?"  "Uncle 
Sam."  "You  feed  your  sheep  on  them?"  "Yes."  "I 
should  suppose  that  these  lands  would  be  taken  up  by 
many  persons,  the}'  look  so  handsome  and  good  mowings." 
"There  has  been  many  to  look  at  them,  but  I  have  the 
only  spring  around.  South  of  me  there  is  a  creek,  which 
is  on  my  land.  West  there  is  no  water,  north  is  the 
river,  three  miles  away,  east  is  the  spring  which  is  on  my 
ranche.  Between  me  and  the  river  there  is  feed  enough 
for  ten  thousand  sheep,  and  only  four  thousand  to  feed 
from  it."  "Are  }TOU  contented  to  live  here  ?  I  suppose  so,  or 
I  should  not  find  yon  here."  "Yes,  I  have  been  here  so 
long,  I  am  contented.  I  do  not  care  to  leave.  My  father 
came  and  settled  here  twenty  years  ago.  I  was  then  ten 
years  old.  My  father  has  been  dead  nearly  five  years.  I 
have  had  charge  of  the  ranche  since  his  death."  "How 
much  help  does  it  require  to  look  after  four  thousand 
sheep  ?"  "There  are  four  of  us  ;  those  two  boys  and  the 
boy  I  hire."  "How  much  do  you  pay  that  boy?"  "Fifty 
dollars  a  year,  board  and  clothes.  I  have  three  dogs. 
They  are  worth  more  than  the  boys.  I  leave  the  sheep  in 
charge  of  the  dogs  for  hours.  I  shall  go  where  the  sheep 
are  pasturing  soon,  you  may  go  with  me  and  see  the  dogs 
bring  them  in.  If  you  have  never  seen  them  among  sheep 
it  will  be  interesting  for  you  to  see  them."  "Do  you  bring 


12  ALDER  POINT. 


in  the  sheep  at  night?"  "We  do  every  night.  We  don't 
allow  them  to  remain  out  nights.  The  wolf  and  the 
k}'Ote  make  great  havoc  among  them  when  the}*"  have  a 
chance."  "You  say  that  you  have  some  four  thousand 
sheep,  can  you  get  them  into  those  four  carrolls?"  "Yes, 
there  is  plenty  of  room."  "When  they  are  in  }*ou  think 
they  are  safe,  do  you  ?"  "Yes,  no  wolf  or  kyote  can  get 
over  that  fence."  "How  is  it  about  the  wild  cat?  I  hear 
they  are 'the  most  active  of  all  wild  animals."  "They 
are  the  smartest  of  them  all.  They  are  very  wild,  but  we 
keep  them  at  a  distance.  We  hunt  them.  Do  not  care 
to  kill  them,  but  prefer  to  wound  them.  The  wolves  are 
the  most  troublesome  when  the  grass  begins  to  dry  up  ; 
then  the  sheep  take  to  the  can}*ons  and  the  wild  animals 
have  mutton  for  a  change.  Then  the  sheep  owners  have 
to  double  the  number  of  their  shepherds  or  they  will  be 
heavy  losers  of  sheep." 

Wool  growing  has  become  a  great  business.  There  is 
more  money  made  by  it  than  by  any  other  business  with 
the  same  amount  of  capital.  The  owner  of  this  ranche 
has  four  thousand  sheep,  which  feed  on  two  thousand 
acres  of  land,  while  the  owner  of  the  sheep  only  owns  one 
hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  land.  He  has  no  neighbors, 
all  the  land  is  his  for  use.  You  can  see  at  a  glance  that 
there  is  money  in  the  business. 

I  left  Alder  Point  on  the  llth  and  made  the  next  stop 
at  Belle  Springs  in  the  evening ;  distance  twenty  miles. 

Belle  Springs. — In  travelling  to  this  place  I  found  it  a 
fair  road,  some  parts  of  it  being  very  good,  a  decided  im 
provement  on  the  previous  day's  journe}T.  After  travel 
ling  about  eight  miles  I  came  to  a  station  called  Spruce 
Grove,  a  place  for  changing  horses  in  the  transportation 
of  the  mails.  About  six  miles  farther  is  a  dark  canyon,  a 
noted  place  to  stop  a  stage  for  plunder.  About  three 
miles  farther  I  came  to  a  mountain,  which  I  was  obliged 


BELLE  SPRINGS.  13 


to  travel  around  in  order  to  reach  the  summit,  as  before 
described,  keeping  on  our  right  or  left  the  canyons.  Some 
are  deep,  very  deep,  and  awful  to  look  down  them.  The 
roads  are  narrow,  no  place  wide  enough  for  two  teams. 
Turnouts  are  made  at  distances  varying  from  a  quarter 
to  half  a  mile.  These  occur  when  a  change  of  direction 
is  to  be  made.  On  arriving  at  a  turnout,  we  are  instruc 
ted  to  stop  and  look  ahead,  and  seing  no  one  coming  we 
sound  our  horn  or  ring  a  bell  and  hearing  no  answer,  go 
on  to  the  next  turnout.  Should  we  meet  a  team,  the 
one  ascending  has  to  back  down  to  the  turnout  just 
left,  giving  the  right  of  way  to  the  team  descending.  I 
have  had  to  back,  or  rather  take  the  horse  from  the 
wagon,  bring  it  around  and  drive  back  to  the  turnout. 
This  is  much  safer  than  attempting  to  back  down.  This 
requires  care,  as  the  room  for  turning  is  very  meagre. 
About  three  miles  from  Belle  Springs  I  began  the  ascent 
of  a  mountain,  the  can3ron  and  turnouts  being  on  my  left. 
Before  reaching  its  summit,  I  saw  two  men  sitting  at  a 
turnout ;  I  did  not  like  their  appearance.  Just  below 
them  I  came  to  a  stop  in  the  shade,  thinking  it  was  about 
the  time  for  the  stage  to  make  its  appearance  and  let  it 
pass.  The  men  came  down  to  where  I  was.  They  were 
Indians,  half-breeds.  I  was  uneasy  and  started  up  to  the 
turnout  and  again  stopped,  they  following  me.  Their  at 
tention  was  attracted  to  my  dog,  Bertie,  in  the  carriage. 
They  were  talking  to  him.  I  was  anxious  to  see  the  mail 
stage  come  along ;  after  a  little  while  it  came  and  I  spoke 
and  said:  "It  is  time  for  the  stage."  I  got  aboard  my 
wagon, the  dog  beside  me.  One  of  the  Indians  said  :  "Give 
me  that  dog."  I  made  no  reply,  judging  what  was  to  fol 
low.  At  that  moment  the  mail  stage  came  along.  They 
saw  it  also  ;  one  of  them  caught  the  dog  by  its  head  and 
was  pulling  him  out  of  the  carriage.  At  that  moment  I 
grabbed  a  long  knife  that  lay  beside  me  and  made  a 
lounge  at  the  man  holding  the  dog  and  told  him  to  let  go 


14  BELLE  SPRINGS. 


of  the  dog.  Both  left  and  plunged  into  the  canyon.  The 
stage  had  got  within  a  few  hundred  feet  of  me,  and  as  it 
came  along  I  called  to  the  driver  to  stop.  He  did  so  and 
asked  what  I  would  have.  "Did  you  notice  those  two 
men  as  you.  came  up?"  I  asked.  He  replied,  "3Tes." 
"I  came  near  losing  my  little  dog.  They  were  Indians, 
half-breeds,  I  thought,  by  their  looks."  "Yes,  I  think 
they  were,"  answered  the  driver,  "you  would  have  lost 
your  dog  had  I  been  out  of  sight ;  they  are  now,  no  doubt, 
in  the  brush."  "How  far  is  it  to  Belle  Springs?"  I 
asked.  "About  a  mile  or  a  little  more."  "Will  you  walk 
your  horses  so  that  I  can  keep  with  you,  I  am  afraid  of 
those  fellows?"  "Yes,  fall  in,  I  will  help  you  out  of 
this."  I  fell  in  his  rear  and  went  on  to  the  next  station 
where  I  arrived  all  right.  Hud  I  not  had  his  company  I 
should  have  lost  my  dog  and  perhaps  more.  On  my  ar 
rival  at  Belle  Springs  I  found  that  my  horse  had  wrenched 
off  one  of  her  front  shoes,  tearing  the  hoof  of  the  foot 
badly  on  both  sides.  This  seemed  to  put  me  in  another 
bad  fix  ;  I  became  blue  and  despondent.  What  can  I  do, 
what  can  be  done  ? 

First  three  days  traveled,  horse  blistered  her  shoulders, 
stopped  five  days  ;  next,  journeyed  one  da}^,  carriage-wheel 
crushed  and  horse  ran  away,  two  days  lost.  Next,  horse 
wrenched  her  shoe  off,  tearing  both  sides  of  hoof.  In 
eleven  days'  journey,  only  one  hundred  and  eight  miles. 
Here  I  am,  cannot  travel  while  horse  is  in  this  condition 
and  no  blacksmith  within  twenty-six  miles.  Doubtful  if 
a  shoe  can  be  put  on  of  any  service.  Is  not  this  enough 
to  discourage  a  younger  man  than  I  ?  I  told  the  land 
lord,  when  putting  up,  that  I  should  be  obliged  to  stay  a 
short  time  with  him.  He  replied,  "Stay  as  long  as  you 
wish."  I  talked  the  accident  over  with  the  host,  told  him 
where  I  belonged  when  at  home,  and  where  I  proposed  to 
go.  "You  are  from  the  East,  it  seems,"  he  said.  "What 
State?"  "Massachusetts,"  I  replied.  "I  come  from 


BELLE  SPRINGS.  15 


Connecticut,"  said  the  landlord:  "what  town  in  Massa 
chusetts."  I  replied  "From  Webster."  "Oh,"  he  said  ;  "I 
know  Webster  very  well,  I  am  from  Pomfret,  Conn.,  you 
are  from  Webster,  Mass.  ;  what  may  I  call  3~our  name?" 
^ My  name  is  Johnson.  Allow  me  to  ask  your  name?" 
"My  name  is  Aldrich.  You  from  Webster,  Mr.  Johnson? 
make  yourself  at  home  and  stay  as  long  as  }'ou  can  con 
sistently  with  the  comfort  of  }*our  horse.  It  shan't  cost 
you  a  cent,  not  a  cent,  Mr.  Johnson,"  said  the  landlord. 

I  made  myself  at  home,  but  I  could  not  content  my 
self.  I  was  troubled,  thinking  what  could  be  done.  I 
looked  over  my  project,  thinking  of  what  I  had  alread}^ 
encountered  and  what  was  before  me  before  reaching 
home,  if  ever,  and  concluded  to  return  to  Eureka.  I 
talked  the  subject  over  with  Mr.  Aldrich,  the  landlord. 
He  said  that  he  would  buy  the  horse  and  carriage,  but  not 
the  cow.  He  made  me  an  offer  for  the  horse,  carriage 
and  harness — a  fair  offer.  The  horse  I  raised  from  a  colt, 
and  when  coming  out  here  to  California,  I  brought  her 
with  me  and  have  become  ve^  much  attached  to  her,  my 
wife  also.  It  will  be  hard  to  part  with  her,  I  had 
thought  enough  of  my  horse  to  pay  a  large  sum  of  money 
to  get  her  to  California,  and  I  concluded  that  I  would  not 
sell  her, but  see  if  it  were  not  possible  to  put  a  shoe  on  her 
foot.  I  was  informed  that  the  best  horse-shoer  known/ 
resided  at  Latonville,  26  miles  from  that  place.  I  made 
a  boot  for  the  horse's  foot,  put  it  on,  and  put  on  her  a 
saddle  and  on  the  morning  of  the  23d  of  June  took  road 
for  the  above  place,  and  walked  the  distance  on  foot,  ex 
cept  when  fording  the  rivers.  Arrived  at  Latonville  at  4 
p.  m.,  one  hour  was  passed  in  shoeing  the  horse  and  one 
more  for  rest,  and  at  6  p.  m.,  started  back  for  Belle 
Springs,  reaching  there  the  next  morning  at  4  a.  m., 
travelling  the  fifty-two  miles  in  twenty-two  hours.  Go 
ing,  I  led  the  horse,  coming  back  I  rode  her  for  the  first 
time.  From  Belle  Springs  to  Latonville  the~road  is  the 


16  BELLE  SPRINGS. 


worst  I  had  travelled.  It  was  very  hilly  and  rocky  ;  one 
place  is  named  Blue  rock  and  it  looked  blue  from  top  to 
bottom.  One  other  place  was  called  Rattle  Snake  Canyon. 
Here  3*011  can  find  rattle  snakes  in  plent}7.  I  did  not  stop 
to  hunt  them,  but  saw  several  ;  thought  it  best  to  keep 
them  at  a  distance.  Fifty-two  miles  was  travelled  in 
twenty'  hours.  Twenty-six  by  day  and  the  same  by  Eight. 
I  passed  through  the  can}"on  between  ten  and  12  a.  m., 
and  at  about  the  same  hours  at  night.  It  is  a  fearfu^ 
looking  can}*on,  thickly  wooded,  narrow  roads,  on  each  side 
heavy  bushes.  On  my  right  going  was  a  beautiful  creek. 
I  was  told  that  there  were  more  wild  animals  in  this 
canyon  than  in  any  other  in  the  State.  They  come  to  this 
creek  for  water  day  and  night.  This  I  was  told  after  I 
had  travelled  this  road  three  times.  Had  I  known  it  at 
first,  it  might  have  made  me  quail.  As  it  was,  it  only 
made  me  a  little  nervous.  On  the  morning  of  my  return 
from  Latonville,  I  was  considerably  frightened  between 
the  hours  of  10  and  12  p.  m.  I  was  on  my  horse,  it  was 
very  dark,  so  much  so  that  I  could  not  see  the  head  of  my 
horse  at  times.  All  at  once  the  horse  stopped  at  some 
sound  in  the  bushes.  I  listened,  heard  some  rattling 
among  the  bushes.  I  be-thought  me  of  my  dog  which  I 
had  for  the  moment  forgot.  Dismounting  from  m}''  horse 
quickly,  I  struck  a  light  so  I  could  see,  and  found  the  dog 
under  the  horse  trembling  with  fear.  It  is  doubtful  if 
ever  my  comrades  in  the  cavalry  dismounted  more 
quickly  than  I  did.  I  knew  that  there  must  be  some  ani 
mal  in  the  bush  or  the  horse  would  not  have  stopped,  or 
the  dog  become  frightened.  I  grabbed  the  dog  by  the 
neck  and  re-mounted  my  horse  "right  sharp,  you  bet,"  and 
urged  her  on  her  journey.  Travelling  on  I  came  near  the 
station  house,  or  stable,  where  the  mail  horses  are  chang 
ed,  I  sang  out  "ho,  ho-a."  A  voice  from  the  inside  an 
swered  "Who's  there,  and  what  do  you  want  at  this  time 
of  night?"  I  replied  that  "I  was  on  my  way  back  to 


BELLE  SPRINGS.  1  7 


Belle  Springs,  and  will  you  let  me  have  some  oats  for  my 
horse?"  "Are  you  the  man  that  stopped  here  in  the 
morning?"  "I  am."  "Then  I  will  get  up  and  give  your 
horse  the  oats,  and  I  suppose  you  will  pay  for  them." 
"Yes,  I  will  pay,"  I  replied.  "If  you  don't  I  will  blow 
your  brains  out,"  he  remarked,  "how  many  do  you 
want?"  "About  a  peck."  "A  peck,  h — 11,  I  can't  spare 
so  many,  we  are  most  out  of  grain."  "Can  you  let  me 
have  a  quarter?"  I  told  him  I  would  pa}r  well  and  give 
him  something  else.  "Something  else,  give  me  that  first." 
I  pulled  a  small  flask  from  my  pocket  and  handed  it  to 
him,  and  said  "this  will  get  me  the  oats."  He  replied, 
"It  was  pay  enough,  and  all  I  ask,  and  when  you  come 
this  way  again  bring  the  flask  full,  }^ou  might  want  some 
more  oats."  I  told  him  that  I  expected  to  be  along  the 
day  after  that,  if  I  did  not  get  eaten  up  by  the  wild  ani 
mals,  the  can}ron  appeared  to  be  full  of  them.  He  said, 
I  was  right ;  he  did  not  see  how  I  dared  to  be  riding  at 
night.  It  was  not  safe  either  day  or  night,  and  that  part 
of  the  canyon  was  the  most  dangerous.  He  hoped  that  I 
might  get  through  all  right.  Thanking  him  for  his 
good  wishes^ I  journeyed  on.  Nearing  Blue  Rock,  a  stage 
house,  between  Belle  Springs  and  Latonville,  which  is 
anything  but  a  house,  I  found  the  building  brightly  illum 
inated.  Had  it  not  been  so,  I  should  not  have  known 
that  I  had  nearly  reached  the  house.  I  wondered  why  the 
house  was  so  brilliantty  illuminate4  and  what  was  going 
on  and  who  were  within  the  house.  Just  before  reaching 
the  house  I  stopped  and  gave  my  horse  a  drink.  There 
was  loud  and  boisterous  talk  heard  from  the  house.  I 
drove  on,  going  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  from  the 
house,  and  had  got  a  distance  beyond,  when  a  voice  called 
out,  "I  want  to  ride."  I  passed  on,  paying  no  attention, 
keeping  out  of  sight  of  the  house  as  much  as  possible.  I 
had  gone  some  little  distance  all  right,  when  I  noticed  my 
horse  acted  strangely,  looking  on  one  side  and  then  on 


18  BELLE  SPRINGS. 


the  other.  It  was  getting  near  daylight.  The  horse  stop 
ped  and  I  urged  her  to  go  on,  but  she  would  not.  A  few 
rods  in  front  of  us  stood  a  man  right  in  the  road.  I  sang 
out  "Stranger,  get  out  of  my  way,  the  horse  will  not  go 
by  you,  step  one  side  and  then  she  will  pass."  The  man 
came  down  the  road  towards  me  and  said  all  was  right. 
" Stranger,  what  has  brought  you  here  so  early  this  morn 
ing?"  I  asked.  "Friend,  I  have  been  here  all  night.  I 
have  a  flock  of  sheep  just  below  here,  which  I  am  obliged 
to  look  after  at  night,  or  else  they  will  be  a  feast  of  mut 
ton  for  the  wolves,"  he  replied.  "Then  you  have  wolves 
in  this  neighborhood?"  I  asked.  "Plenty  of  them,"  he 
answered:  "they  are  getting  a  little  shy.  We  put  cold 
lead  into  them,  but  try  not  to  kill,  but  wound  them,  so 
that  they  will  keep  the  rest  away."  "Are  you  not  afraid 
of  them?"  "We  do  not  go  out  among  them  without  our 
guns,"  he  said.  "You  have  dogs  to  hunt  them,  do  you 
not?"  "Yes,  but  the  dogs  can  do  nothing  unless  we  are 
there  with  them  to  shoot  them.  We  set  the  dogs  on  them, 
and  giving  them  some  cold  lead  make  them  afraid  of  us." 
I  left  this  man  and  made  the  remainder  of  my  journey 
back  to  Belle  Springs  without  any  further  molestation  or 
incident,  and  arrived  at  the  house  about  4  a.  m.,  putting 
up  my  horse  and  giving  her  the  usual  feed.  I  went  to 
bed  very  fatigued  and  slept  until  10  o'clock  in  the  fore 
noon.  That  day  I  made  all  arrangements  to  commence 
my  journey  eastward. 

Belle  Springs  is  a  half-way  station  between  Eureka  and 
Cloverdale.  Stages  from  both  ways  meet  and  return 
from  this  place  at  the  same  hours.  There  is  a  good  hotel 
with  ample  accommodations.  There  are  seven  sleeping 
rooms,  kitchen,  dining  room  and  others  on  the  ground 
floor.  This  is  kept  by  a  Mr.  Aldrich,  formerly  from  Ab- 
ington,  Windham  County,  Conn.,  who  proved  himself  a 
gentleman  in  ever}r  sense  of  the  word. 


LATONVILLE.  19 


On  the  morning  of  June  26th,  after  a  long  rest  I  left 
Belle  Springs,  on  resuming  my  journey  for  Latonville,  dis 
tant  twent3r-six  miles,  travelling  over  the  same  road  I  had 
gone  to  get  my  horse  shod.  Being  satisfied  with  the  man 
ner  the  blacksmith  had  put  on  the  one  shoe^I  determined 
to  have  shoes  put  on  the  other  feet.  The  shoes  were 
made  of  steel,  with  corks  nailed  at  the  toe,  clipped  back 
to  the  quarter,  only  four  nails  in  a  shoe.  Very  simple  and 
good.  I  travelled  nearly  five  hundred  miles  before  they 
were  removed. 

Latonville  is  a  small  place,  contains  a  hotel,  blacksmith 
shop,  store,  carriage  shop  and  several  houses,  all  built  of 
good  material.  This  village  is  located  in  Long  Valley, 
on  the  north  side  about  mid-way.  The  valley  is  about 
fourteen  miles  long  and  one  mile  wide,  nearly  surrounded 
by  mountains — good  and  fertile  land,  a  fine  river  running 
through  the  valley. 

Left  Latonville  on  the  27th  and  reached  Little  Lake, 
my  next  point,  the  distance  travelled  being  twent}7-three 
miles, — travelling  through  the  valley.  After  leaving  the 
valley,  for  about  two  miles  the  road  was  very  rough,  until 
I  made  connection  with  the  stage  road  again  at  Sherwood 
valle}'.  From  there  onward  the  road  was  good  travelling. 
A  short  distance  before  reaching  Little  Lake,  I  carne  to  a 
wheat  field  ;  here  I  thought  it  best  to  camp.  I  took  some 
of  the  wheat,  as  if  it  were  my  own,  and  fed  my  cattle. 
There  was  no  one  around %  I  could  not  see  a  hous9  and  had 
not  passed  one  since  leaving  Latonville.  I  tied  my  cattle 
fast  to  my  wagon  after  their  supper,  and  got  my  own  sup 
per,  eating  some  cold  roast  Elk  venison,  after  which  I 
prepared  my  bed  for  the  night.  Retiring,  I  soon  fell 
asleep,  but  was  awakened  about  midnight  by  the  snorting 
of  my  horse.  I  got  up,  could  see  nothing,  but  my  horse's 
ears  were  perched  straight  over  her  head  as  if  in  fear.  I 
looked  down  the  road  and  became  convinced  that  there 


20  LITTLE    LAKE. 


was  some  of  those  fellows  around  who  are  known  as  "In- 
fernals."  I  went  to  bed  but  could  not  sleep  again,  so  I 
got  up,  fed  my  cattle  and  made  ready  to  go  on,  and 
started  as  soon  as  day  began  to  break,  and  light  enough 
to  travel.  Coming  to  the  station  I  inquired  of  a  man  I 
saw  who  was  the  owner  of  the  wheat  field,  back  about  a 
mile,  saying  "I  went  into  camp  there,  and  made  use  of 
some  of  the  wheat  and  would  like  to  pay  the  owner  for  the 
same."  He  replied  "That  is  all  right,  the  owner  would 
not  take  anything  if  you  offered  it  to  him."  "I  would  not 
like  to  have  the  man  follow  and  trouble  me,  and  am  will 
ing  to  pay,"  I  remarked.  "That  is  all  right,  you  need 
not  trouble  yourself  about  it  in  the  least,"  said  the  station 
man. 

Left  Little  Lake  on  the  28th  and  made  the  town  of  Uki- 
ah  the  same  day,  having  made  twenty- three  miles. 

Little  Lake  is  simply  a  station  for  the  changing  of  horses 
for  the  mail  coaches,  and  for  drivers  and  chance  passen 
gers  to  eat  and  drink,  the  thirst  being  the  greatest  every 
time. 

About  noon  I  was  travelling  a  really  good  road,  equal 
to  a  fair  eastern  road.  I  stopped,  fed  my  cattle,  made  a 
fire,  cooked  some  dinner  and  ate  it  all  alone,  no  one 
around,  not  a  house  for  miles,  and  had  not  seen  one  since 
leaving  Latonville.  Rested  till  half-past  one  o'clock,  and 
then  resumed  the.  journe}T,  passing  what  is  known  as 
Sherwood  valle}' — coming  to  a  cross-road  I  read  on  a 
board,  "To  Bartlett's  Spring  and  over  the  mountain  to 
Sacramento."  So  far  to-day  have  seen  but  one  man.  I 
do  not  have  a  chance  to  ask  where  does  this  road  go,  or 
how  far  is  it  to  this  place  or  that,  yet  I  must  soon  come 
in  sight  of  Ukiah.  Presently  I  came  in  sight  of  a  house, 
and  then  another,  and  I  found  myself  in  comparatively  a 
large  town.  I  urged  Fanny  along  and  soon  we  were  in 
the  city.  I  call  it  a  city,  not  being  positive  it  is,  but  it  is 


URIAH.  21 


one  of  the  large  towns  in  this  part  of  California.  On  ar 
riving  in  Ukiah,  I  made  for  a  wheelright's  shop  to  have 
my  broken  wheel  repaired.  If  I  knew  the  name  of  that 
rascally  driver,  I  would  give  it  to  show  his  meanness,  yet 
doubtless  he  is  telling  the  story  to  some  of  his  boon  com 
panions  as  a  good  joke  served  on  that  eastern  chap.  I 
found  a  carriage  shop  and  asked  the  proprietor  if  he  could 
repair  my  wheel :  I  told  him  that  I  had,  soon  after  cross 
ing  Eel  river  been  run  into  by  the  stage  driver,  crushing 
one  of  my  wheels.  "Where  is  your  carriage,  let  me  look 
at  it?  "  "It  is  in  front  of  }rour  shop,  sir* I  have  come  all 
the  way  from  Eel  river  with  those  splints  on  the  wheel,  as 
you  see."  "Those  splints  make  a  strong  wheel."  "Yes, 
but  what  can  you  do  to  make  them  stronger?"  I  asked.  "I 
shall  have  to  take  the  wheel  to  pieces  and  glue  the  spokes 
anew."  "How  much  will  }'ou  charge  me?"  "I  will  do 
it  for  62. 50."  "Can  you  do  it  this  afternoon ?"  "Yes, 
this  afternoon."  It  was  then  four  o'clock. 

Left  Ukiah  at  mid-night  of  the  29th  and  made  as  far 
as  Cloverdale  that  day — about  thirty  miles. 

Ukiah  is  the  county  town  of  Mendocino  county.  It 
has  two  hotels,  several  stores  and  a  variety  of  workshops, 
blacksmith,  carriage  and  livery,  which  give  employment 
to  many  hands.  Saloons  and  dance  houses,  where  both 
immoral  men  and  women  are  congregated,  are  to 
be  found  in  abundance,  where  the  wildest  scenes  of 
debasement  can  be  seen  at  all  times.  Drinking,  gambling 
and  lewdness  are  so  prevalent  that  I  became  more  dis 
gusted  with  the  saloon  than  ever  before  or  since.  The  women 
are  imported  from  distant  large  cities  for  the  pleasure  and 
profit  of  those  places,  travelling  in  the  same  stages  as  the 
more  respectable  passengers.  Of  course,  there  are  some 
good  people  here,  but  the  reckless  seem  to  predominate. 
The  wheelright  who  repaired  my  carriage,  appeared  to  be 
a  very  fair  man,  he  had  done  me  a  good  job  at  a  fair 


22  URIAH. 


price.  I  called  at  a  livery  and  bought  a  sack  of  grain,  for 
which  the  proprietor  charged  me  three  cents  a  pound  for 
ground  barley,  a  big  price.  What  do  you  think  of  it? 
Did  he  have  to  pay  so  much  for  his  whisky  that  he  had 
to  charge  so  exhorbitantly  for  his  grain  ? 

I  left  Ukiah  about  half-past  seven  in  the  evening,  and 
travelled  until  I  came  to  a  good  grass  spot  and  camped  for 
the  night.  I  fastened  my  cow,  Bessie,  with  the  lariet, 
and  the  horse,  Fanny,  I  secured  by  the  halter ;  I 
dared  not  leave  her  loose  to  give  her  a  chance  to  lead  me 
another  chase  alter  her,  as  she  did  at  Alder  Point.  While 
feeding  my  cattle,  a  team  with  two  men  in  it  came  along. 
One  of  them  said,  "Friend,  what  are  you  doing  there?" 
"Stranger,  giving  my  cattle  a  little  grass."  "What,  are 
you  travelling?  "  "Yes  sir,  I  am."  "Where  are  3rou  go 
ing?  "  "I  am  going  to  Cloverdale."  "Here  go  with  me, 
I  will  do  better  than  that,  I  will  give  your  cattle  both  hay 
and  grain,  so  come  back  with  me  only  a  short  distance." 
I  thanked  them  kindly,  and  they  insisted  on  my  going 
back  with  them.  I  told  them  I  did  not  think  of  stopping 
long,  would  travel  some  during  the  night  so  I  could  reach 
Cloverdale  the  next  day — and  would  it  be  safe  for  me  to 
travel,  being  all  alone.  They  answered  it  would,  and  no 
one  would  molest  me,  and  they  again  urged  me  to  go  with 
them  and  have  something  to  eat  and  drink  with  them.  I 
told  them  I  felt  grateful  but  they  must  excuse  me.  So 
they  went,  but  shortly  after  returned  with  hay  and  grain 
for  my  cattle,  cold  roast  beef  and  whisk}r  for  myself,  and 
I  was  obliged  to  eat  and  drink  witli  them.  I  thought  it 
best  not  to  decline  their  good  will.  Thanking  them  for 
their  hospitalit3r,  I  made  ready  to  resume  my  journey. 
They  told  me  I  was  welcome  and  wished  me  good  night 
and  success  on  my  journey. 

In  journe}'ing  to  Cloverdale  the  roads  had  been  much 
better,  although  the  travelling  had  been  hard  for  the  cattle 
as  the  day  had  been  very  warm.  I  did  not  make  this 


CLOVERDALE.  23 


place  until  late  in  the  evening.  Passing  now  through  a 
new  county  I  found  the  weather,  atmosphere  and  general 
appearance  of  the  country  was  much  changed,  this  being 
one  of  the  finest  counties,  Sonoma,  in  the  State  ;  the  two 
others  being  the  roughest.  I  felt  and  it  looked  as  if  I  were 
in  a  new  world.  On  entering  the  town  about  9  p.  m., 
there  was  a  light  a-head  of  us.  It  was  the  head-light  of  a 
locomotive.  The  horse  was  looking  at  it,  her  ears  stand 
ing  erect;  coming  to  a  halt,  I  asked,  "Fann}T,  what  is 
that?"  She  knew  as  well  as  I,  no  doubt.  At  that  mo 
ment  the  whistle  blew  and  Bessie,  the  cow,  became 
frightened  and  almost  upset  my  wagon,  but  the  horse 
stood  firm.  I  continued  onward  and  drew  near  the  engine, 
the  cow  became  uneasy,  and  I  fancied  the  horse  said  to  the 
cow,  "Bessie,  be  not  afraid,  it  will  not  hurt  you."  This 
was  what  Fann}r  said,  as  I  understood  her,  and  from  that 
time  I  have  thought  that  the  horse  and  cow  conversed  in 
this  fashion  during  our  long  journey.  As  we  were  stand 
ing  waiting  for  the  engine  to  go,  the  people  began  to 
gather  around  us,  until  more  than  a  hundred  people  had 
assembled.  They  asked  where  I  was  from,  where  going, 
and  how  long  I  had  been  on  the  road,  and  many  other 
questions.  I  answered  them  civilly  and  to  their  satisfac 
tion,  not  one  of  them  offering  any  insult  or  molestation. 
I  asked  one  man  where  I  could  camp.  He  replied,  "Come 
with  me  and  I  will  show  3^011  where."  I  followed  the  man, 
who  led  me  to  a  barn  and  told  me  to  put  my  cattle  in 
there  or  turn  them  loose  yonder  as  suits  myself.  It  was 
so  warm  that  I  thought  it  best  to  turn  them  loose  and  let 
them  eat  the  grass.  Having  done  so  and  given  them 
water  and  grain,  being  very  weary  I  made  up  my  bed  and 
went  to  rest  for  the  night.  I  was  soon  asleep,  but  about 
midnight  my  horse  came  around  where  I  was  sleeping,  her 
breath  awoke  me.  "What  is  the  matter,  Fanny?"  I 
asked.  She  made  no  answer,  but  went  away  satisfied 
that  I  was  near  at  hand.  After,  a  while  she  came  again, 


24  CLOVERDALE. 


and  I  told  her  to  get  away  as  it  was  not  time  to  be  off  yet. 
Daylight  came ;  rolling  up  my  blankets  I  went  into 
the  town  and  looked  it  over  and  returned  to  my  camp, 
found  all  right,  fed  and  watered  my  cattle,  went  and  laid 
down  again  for  awhile.  Shortly  the  man  of  the  house 
came  out  and  came  up  to  me  where  I  was  laying,  says  he, 
"Well,  stranger,  how  did  you  rest  during  the  night?"  I 
answered,  "Very  well,  as  I  was  veiy  tired,  and  now  I  am 
feeling  very  well."  "Our  breakfast  is  ready,  come  in 
and  take  some  with  us."  I  took  breakfast  with  him  ;  after 
breakfast  I  asked  my  host  if  I  could  stop  there  over  the 
day,  as  I  thought  my  cattle  needed  a  rest.  "Yes,  I  have 
no  objections.  Where*  are  you  going,  if  it  is  a  proper 
question  to  ask?"  "I  am  going  to  San  Francisco." 
"How  many  miles  do  you  travel  a  day?"  I  answered 
"About  twenty-five  miles."  "It  will  take  you  about  four 
days  to  get  to  the  city,"  he  replied. 

Left  Cloverdale  July  1st  and  travelled  as  far  as  Healds- 
burg,  distance  eighteen  miles. 

Cloverdale  is  a  fine  town,  beautifully  laid  out,  and  is 
destined  to  be  one  of  the  most  prominent  in  the  Stare. 
It  is  situated  in  the  northern  part  of  Sonoma  county,  per 
haps  the  richest  agriculturally  in  the  State.  It  is  the  termi 
nus  of  a  railroad  known  as  the  San  Francisco  and  North 
Pacific  Railroad,  owned  by  one  man  named  Donahue. 
The  distance  from  Cloverdale  to  San  Francisco  is  eighty- 
three  and  a  half  miles. 

My  passage  now  is  through  a  rich  and  fertile  county. 
What  a  change,  everything  looks  beautiful  and  enchant 
ing.  Coming  from  Humboldt  and  Mcndocino  counties 
where  everything  was  rough,  to  Sonoma  county,  what  a 
change.  Such  a  contrast  can  scarcely  be  conceived.  The 
air  is  bracing  and  healthful  and  gives  spirit  and  vigor  to 
both  man  and  beast.  I  have  a  long  journey  before  me, 
and  having  lost  too  much  time  already  I  must  push  on. 


IIKALDSBUKG.  25 


This  has  been  a  large  grain  growing  county,  but  at  this 
day  the  agriculturalists  are  changing  to  the  culture 
of  the  grape.  It  is  said  that  the  grape  crops  }*ield  more 
money  than  does  the  grain,  and  the  crops  are  surer  and 
more  to  be  depended  upon.  To  me,  there  is  nothing 
more  beautiful  than  the  vineyards  in  this  section  of  the 
golden  State.  See  the  large  bunches  of  this  beautiful 
fruit,  look  at  it,  think  of  it  and  taste  of  its  delicious 
flavor.  Is  there  anything  more  beautiful  ?  I  would  like 
to  see  it.  About  live  in  the  afternoon  I  entered  the  town 
of  Healdsburg,  and  passing  through,  I  camp  on  the  banks 
of  the  Russian  river  for  the  night,  just  below  the  bridge. 

Left  Healdsburg  on  the  2nd  and  made  Santa  Rosa  the 
same  day,  distant  eighteen  miles. 

Healdsburg. — Leaving  this  place  I  cross  the  Russian 
river,  over  which  there  is  an  excellent  bridge  and  also  a  good 
ford.  Instead  of  crossing  the  bridge,  I  preferred  to  ford 
the  river.  The  water  was  about  two  and  a  half  feet  in 
depth  with  a  sandy  bottom.  The  morning  was  bright  and 
warm.  My  cattle  seemed  to  enjoy  it,  and  I  know  I  did, 
after  coming  down  from  a  God-forsaken  world,  as  we  had, 
and  finding  such  a  change.  No  wonder  that  we  felt  so 
well.  We  are  travelling  the  Russian  valley,  one  of  the 
most  fertile  and  beautiful  in  the  State.  What  fields  of 
wheat !  what  large  vineyards  of  grapes  !  they  excel|  all. 
The  only  draw-back,  the  farmers  have  too  much  land. 
There  is  not  the  population  there  should  be  or  could  be 
supported.  No  neighbors  ;  houses  are  too  remote  from 
each  other.  Should  a  fire  occur,  there  are  no  neighbors 
to  help  put  it  out.  East,  the  man  that  owns  five,  six  or 
eight  hundred  or  a  thousand  acres,  cuts  it  up  into  small 
farms  with  houses  here  and  there  ;  has  ten  houses  to  one 
in  this  section,  and  has  plenty  of  neighbors  to  help  in 
case  of  fire.  But  here  they  would  burn  down  and  all 
be  destroyed. 


26  SANTA  ROSA. 


Left  Santa  Rosa  on  the  3rd  and  made  Petaluma  my 
next  stopping  place,  travelling  twenty  miles  this  day. 

Santa  Rosa,  the  capital  of  Sonoma  county,  is  a  fine 
thriving  town.  Here  there  appears  evidence  of  more  en 
terprise  than  in  any  other  place  I  have  passed  through 
since  leaving  Eureka.  In  this  as  well  as  other  places, 
there  are  many  drinking  houses  and  many  men  and  boys 
that  pass  their  time  and  spend  their  money  at  the  gamb 
ling  tables,  which  to  me  seems  foolish.  I  suppose  to 
them  it  does  not  look  so  bad,  but  to  me  it  does,  as  I  have 
not  been  out  here  long  enough  to  get  over  my  New  Eng 
land  education. 

San  Raphael. — I  left  Petaluma  on  the  morning  of  the 
4th  and  journeyed  that  day  to  San  Raphael,  a  distance  of 
twenty  miles.  I  left  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
being  anxious  to  reach  San  Raphael  early  in  the  day, 
there  to  remain  till  the  next  morning.  I  reached  the  city 
about  ten  o'clock  and  on  my  arrival  I  found  the  place 
crowded  with  people  who  were  celebrating  the  national 
holiday.  In  reaching  the  city  I  was  obliged  to  enter 
about  the  centre,  coming  in  contact  with  the  multitude. 
Guns,  pistols,  fire  crackers  were  being  used  in  no  small 
quantities.  My  horse  is  not  afraid  of  anything  except  a 
simple  swing,  and  that  she  does  not  admire.  As  I  was 
going  around  the  plaza,  the  boys  though  tthey  would  have 
some  sport.  They  opened  fire  upon  me  with  their  fire 
crackers.  The  horse  stood  it  well,  but  the  cow  broke  two 
parts  of  her  halter  and  fled.  The  horse,  seeing  "Bessie" 
a-far  off  made  for  her.  I  was  holding  on  to  the  horse  with 
all  my  might.  A  man  on  horseback  saw  the  cow  break 
away  and  galloped  after  her  and  caught  her,  bringing  her 
back  to  me  ;  she  was  wild.  On  her  return  she  came  up 
to  my  horse,  standing  until  she  again  became  quiet.  The 
people  gathered  about  us  by  hundreds,  I  in  their  midst. 
A  police  officer  came  up  to  me  saying  "Stranger,  what 


SAN    RAPHAEL.  27 


can  I  do  for  you?"  I  answered  "please  request  the  peo 
ple  to  keep  quiet  and  fire  no  more  crackers."  My  request 
was  granted.  A  man  in  the  crowd  came  to  me  and  said, 
"Take  your  cattle  to  my  barn  and  give  them  some  hay, 
they  will  all  be  safe  there."  "Thank  you,  stranger,  go 
ahead  and  I  will  follow  you."  The  officer  went  with  us, 
and  we  arrived  at  the  barn  without  further  hindrance.  The 
gentleman  who  requested  me  to  take  my  cattle  to  his  barn 
was  formerly  a  resident  of  the  state  of  Maine. 

San  Francisco. — Started  on  the  morning  of  the  5th  for 
San  Francisco,  distant  fourteen  miles.  Passed  on  my 
way  through  St.  Quentin,  by  the  state  prison  to  the  feny, 
and  at  half-past  two  I  was  on  board  the  steamer  for  San 
Francisco.  On  passing  down  the  ba}T,  its  entrance  was 
on  our  right  from  the  ocean  through  the  Golden  Gate. 
On  our  left  is  Oakland,  that  beautiful  city  of  the  west. 
On  entering  the  city^I  was  charmed  by  its  beauty  and  the 
scenery  around.  We  entered  the  city  about  four  in  the 
afternoon.  On  the  right  is  a  high  bluff,  and  on  this  bluff 
are  four  residences  of  noted  men  of  the  city — Stanford, 
Huntington,  Hopkins  and  Crocker.  I  leave  the  boat 
about  four  o'clock,  pass  up  Market  street,  down  Fourth 
street  across  the  track  of  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad,  at 
their  freight  depot,  and  drive  opposite  on  the  west,  where 
I  made  my  camp  while  in  the  city  two  years  previous  to 
this  visit. 


28  SAN   FRANCISCO. 


CHAPTER  II. 


FROM  SAN  FRANCISCO,  SAN  JOSE  TO  SACRAMENTO. 

My  stay  in  the  city  of  San  Francisco  was  much  longer 
than  I  intended  when  I  arrived,  but  there  was  so  much  of 
interest  in  the  place  that  day  by  day  passed  almost  imper 
ceptibly.  I  was  also  anxious  to  see  as  much  of  the  State 
as  my  circumstances  would  admit,  especially  was  I  de 
sirous  of  visiting  the  renowned  San  Jose.  Having  heard  so 
much  about  the  place*  I  thought  that  if  I  did  not  visit  this 
place  it  would  always  be  a  source  of  regret.  So  I  con 
cluded  to  do  so,  and  travel  ninety  miles  directly  out  of 
my  way  in  order  to  see  the  city  of  San  Jose. 

Decoto. — On  the  morning  of  July  16th  I  left  San  Fran 
cisco  for  San  Jose,  stopping  at  Decoto.  I  left  the  city 
about  4  a.  m.,  travelled  up  Fourth  and  Market  streets 
to  the  ferry,  passing  through  Oakland  and  taking  the 
direct  road  for  San  Jose,  through  the  counties  of  Alme- 
da  and  Santa  Clara.  The  latter  is  a  very  fertile  one  and 
perhaps  the  richest  in  the  State ;  San  Jose  is  the  county 
town.  On  my  way  to  Decoto  I  passed  through  the  town 
of  Haywards,  where  I  made  a  short  halt.  While  conver 
sing  with  several  persons,  I  found  that  one  of  the  num 
ber  was  formerly  from  Hartford,  Conn.  Many  questions 
were  asked  by  both  parties.  About  4  p.  m.,  I  arrived  at 
Decoto,  and  camped  for  the  night. 

The  morning  of  the  17th  I  was  up  early  and  began 
preparations  for  another  day's  journe3T.  I  did  not  break 
fast,  so  anxious  was  I  to  reach  my  object  point  that  day, 
so  by  five  o'clock  I  was  on  the  move  and  travelled  until 
seven  ;  at  this  time  I  came  to  a  farm-house  where  there 


DECOTO.  29 


was  a  fountain,  from  which  I  watered  my  cattle  and  then 
proceeded  to  the  barn,  and  while  feeding,  a  gentleman 
came  and  said,  "Good  morning,  stranger."  "Good 
morning,"  I  answered.  "Travelling,  are  you?"  "Yes, 
sir,  a  short  distance »  I  have  heard  so  much  of  your  city 
of  San  Jose,  that  I  am  going  there  to  visit.  I  thought 
it  would  pay  me  to  visit  the  place  while  so  near  it."  "But 
where  are  you  from,  travelling  with  that  outfit?"  he 
asked.  "Yesterday  I  left  San  Francisco,  and  thought  1 
would  visit  this  city  before  leaving  the  State/'  "Before 
you  leave  the  State,  what  do  you  mean  loy  that?"  he  ask 
ed.  "Well,  sir,  I  will  be  short*  I  am  on  my  way  East, 
as  far  as  Massachusetts.  I  know  that  I  am  not  on  the 
direct  road,  but  shall  be  as  soon  as  this  present  visit  is 
made.  I  intend  to  return  by  way  of  Niles  and  on 
through  Livermore  valley  to  Stockton."  "How  long  have 
you  been  in  the  State  and  in  what  part  have  you  been 
staying,  stranger?"  "I  have  been  in  the  State  two  years 
and  more,  and  resided  at  Eureka,  Humboldt  county." 
"And  you  are  from  Eureka?  I  know  the  place  well, 
stranger."  "How  far  is  it  from  here  to  San  Jose?"  "It 
is  seventeen  miles.  Come  in  and  take  some  breakfast 
with  us."  I  went  into  the  house  with  him.  Turning  to 
his  wife, the  man  said,  "This  man  says  he  is  from  Eureka 
and  thinks  he  must  see  our  city  of  San  Jose,1*  it  is  the  fin 
est  in  California.  How  did  }Ton  get  down  to  San  Fran 
cisco,  stranger?  You  must  have  noticed  a  vast  differ 
ence  in  the  roads  through  Humboldt,  Mendocino  and  this 
county."  "Yes,  sir,* I  noticed  there  was  a  great  differ 
ence."  "You  are  now  travelling  the  best  in  the  State. 
Wife,  I  suppose  the  breakfast  is  now  ready  and  waiting. 
Stranger,  take  a  seat  and  eat.  Did  }TOU  give  your  cattle 
all  the  grain  they  could  eat?"  "I  think  they  would  eat 
more  if  it  were  before  them."  "I  will  give  them  some  of 
mine.  It  is  very  fine,  as  good  as  can  be  raised  in  the 
State."  So  they  were  given  an  extra  feed  that  time. 


30  SAN  JOSE. 


After  breakfast  I  got  ready  to  proceed  on  my  way  to  the 
city.  As  I  started  my  host  said,  "Stranger,  on  your  re 
turn,  come  here  and  stay  over  night  with  us.  It  is  not 
a  half  mile  out  of  your  way  ;  yonder  is  your  road  to  Liv- 
ermore,"  you  will  have  to  return  to  that  road.  Come  here 
and  tell  us  how  you  like  San  Jose.  You  will  be  welcome 
to  our  hospitalit}7.  How  long  do  you.  intend  to  stay?" 
uBut  one  day,"  I  answered.  About  eight  o'clock  I  left 
them. 

San  Jose. — The  morning  was  warm,  the  road  good,  but 
very  dusty.  I  arrived  at  San  Jose  about  four  in  the  af 
ternoon,  and  rambled  about  the  principle  streets  until  I 
thought  of  a  camping  place.  On  entering  the  city  I  had 
noticed  a  place  that  would  make  a  good  camping  spot 
for  the  night^and  returned  thereto,  about  a  half  mile 
from  the  city.  On  arriving  at  the  spot  I  went  to  the  house 
and  rang  the  bell,  which  was  answered  by  the  lady  of  the 
house,  of  whom  I  requested  permission  to  camp  in  a  yard 
near  by.  I  told  her  my  story,  and  was  on  my  way  East, 
but  being  desirous  of  seeing  this  place  had  rambled  thus 
far  out  of  my  way.  She  gave  me  permission  to  camp 
as  I  desired.  I  then  asked  her  if  she  would  sell  me  some 
hay,' grain  I  carried  with  me.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "there  is 
hay  in  the  barn,  go  help  yourself."  Giving  my  cattle 
water,  hay  and  grain  for  their  supper,  and  seeing  they 
were  cared  for,  I  spread  out  my  blankets  on  the  ground 
and  laid  me  down,  being  very  tired  from  my  day's  jour 
ney.  After  a  while  the  lady  came  to  me  and  asked  if  "I 
would  like  to  go  in  the  house  and  have  a  dish  of  tea?" 
"I  would,  thank  you."  I  went  in,  sat  down,  to  a  good  sup 
per.  The  lady  asked,  "How  did  I  like  the  city?" 
"Madam,  you  have  a  fine  town  here;  Its  surroundings 
are  good/ 1  have  seen  nothing  equal  to  it  so  far  in  my 
travels."  You  remarked  that  you  were  on  your  way  for 
the  Eastern  States.  "How  far  East  do  you  go?"  "As  far 


NILES.  31 


as  Massachusetts  ;  that  State  is  my  home."  "Do  you  in 
tend  to  take  that  cow  all  that  distance,''  inquired  the  Iad3r. 
"I  do,*  that  is  m}-  intention.  When  I  came  out  here  two 
years  ago  I  brought  that  horse  with  me,'  she  is  a  native  of 
Massachusetts,  so  also  is  that  little  dog.  The  cow  is  a 
native  of  California.  I  will  pay  you  now  for  the  hay  that 
I  gave  to  my  cattle,  as  I  shall  leave  early  in  the  morning, 
perhaps  before  you  are  about.  I  like  to  travel  in  the  early 
part  of  the  day,  and  rest  during  the  hot  part  of  the  day." 
She  replied,  "You  are  welcome  to  the  hay  and  if  you  will 
stay  to  breakfast  you  are  welcome  also."  I  thanked  her 
and  bade  her  good  night. 

Niles. — On  the  morning  of  the  18th  I  was  up  early,  and 
soon  ready  to  start  on  my  return.  I  left  San  Jose  about 
five  o'clock  intending  to  reach  Stockton  for  my  next  stop 
ping  place.  As  usual  with  horses, she  travelled  faster  than 
usual,  probably  thinking  that  she  was  making  for  her 
old  home.  It  was  hard  for  the  cow  to  keep  up  to  her 
gait.  I  fell  back  and  travelled  beside  the  cow.  My 
presence  appeared  to  stimulate  her  as  she  kept  pretty 
well  with  the  team.  She  travelled  lead  with  a  slack 
rope.  At  one  o'clock  we  reached  Niles,  where  we  halt 
ed  for  our  mid-day  meal,  taking  up  about  an  hour's 
time.  My  equipage  was  an  object  of  interes^and  many 
were  the  questions  put  to  me,  answering  all  that  I  was 
on  my  way  overland  from  California  to  Massachusetts.  I 
travelled  till  half-past  six  and  pitched  our  camp  for  the 
night  near  a  wheat  field,  on  which  I  fed  the  cattle. 

Livermore. — Next  morning,  the  19th,  I  arose  early,  fed 
the  cattle  with  wheat  and  as  soon  as  it  was  daylight  re 
sumed  my  journey  and  travelled  until  7  a.  m.  ,when  reach 
ing  a  creek  I  thought  I  would  stop  and  partake  of  break 
fast  and  |?ive  us  all  a  slight  rest.  I  gave  grain  to  the 
cattle  and  made  a  fire  and  boiled  eggs  and  made  coffee 


32  LIVERMORE. 


for  myself,  and  at  9  a.  m.,  went  on.  It  was  a  very  warm 
morning,  the  road  good  but  rolling.  At  six  in  the  after- 
noonrl  reached  Livermore,  stopping  for  the  night  near  a 
saloon.  Gave  the  cattle  their  feed  and  made  coffee  and 
ate  my  supper.  I  did  not  like  my  surroundings  and 
thought  I  would  go  into  the  town,  about  half  a  mile  away, 
but  concluded  to  stay  in  camp.  I  spread  out  my  blanket 
and  went  to  bed,  running  my  chances  of  being  allowed  to 
sleep  quietly ;  I  had  not  been  at  rest  long  before  I  was 
surrounded  with  callers — overlooking  my  camp  and  ask 
ing  innumerable  questions.  Some  were  hard  to»answer, 
still  I  answered  all  civilly.  I  stood  this  bantering  for  a 
long  while,  in  fact,  until  I  was  completely  tired  out. 
"Gentlemen,"  I  said,  "I  have  come  a  long  distance  to 
day  and  am  very  weary, 'will  you  allow  me  to  rest  here  in 
peace?"  "How  far  have  yon  come  to-day,  stranger?"  "I 
have  come  from  Niles^eft  there  early  this  morning." 
"You  have  done  well  to  travel  that  distance,  stranger." 
"It  has  been  a  very  warm  day  ;  I  hope  you  will  allow  me 
to  get  some  rest."  "We  will  ask  }^ou  but  one  more  question, 
where  are  you  travelling  to,  stranger?"  I  answered  "I 
am  bound  for  Stockton*  I  want  to  get  there  to-morrow,  to 
cross  the  river  so  that  my  cattle  can  once  more  get  some 
grass."  "We  don't  think  }*ou  can  travel  that  distance  in 
a  day,  old  man.  We  will  leave  you  so  that  you  can  go 
to  sleep  ;  come  boys,  come  away  and  let  the  old  man  go 
to  sleep."  They  left,  but  I  got  no  sleep. 

I  awoke  on  the  morning  of  the  20th  about  one  o'clock, 
there  being  so  much  noise  around  that  it  was  impossible 
for  me  to  sleep.  I  put  the  horse  in  the  wagon  and  quietly 
departed  from  my  camp  and  went  on  my  journey.  It  was 
dark,  in  fact,  too  dark  for  safe  travelling.  I  lit  my  lan 
tern  and  used  it  for  a  head-light.  At  three  o'clock  we 
came  to  a  house,  known  as  the  "Midway  House,"  located 
in  a  dreary  looking  canyon.  Here  I  stopped,  gave  my 


MIDWAY  HOUSE.  33 


cattle  water  and  a  light  feed  of  grain.  About  this  time 
daylight  began  to  break  and  we  moved  on,  passing  through 
"Livermore  Pass"  and  on  up  the  bluff  until  we  came  to 
a  store.  Here  we  took  breakfast,  rather  late,  but  still  our 
morning's  meal.  After  eating,  we  again  pushed  on  our 
journey,  crossing  the  railroad  and  entering  the  valley  of 
San  Joaquin.  We  travelled  this  valley  for  several  miles, 
until  I  thought  it  about  time  to  look  for  a  camping  place 
for  the  night.  I  left  the  railroad  a  long  distance  on  my 
right  and  had  not  passed  a  house  since  breakfast,  nor 
could  I  see  one  in  sight.  Still  travelling  on,  after  going 
some  distance  I  sighted  a  house  which  "we  made  for;  I 
urging  on  my  horse,  Fanny,  as  she  travelled  as  if  she  were 
very  weary.  We  reached  this  house  about  six  o'clock 
and  stopped.  I  went  to  the  door  and  rang  the  bell ;  a 
lady  came  in  answer.  I  asked  her  if  the  gentleman  of  the 
house  was  in.  "No,"  she  answered,  "he  is  not,*  I  am  ex 
pecting  him  soon  :  he  has  gone  to  look  after  some  horses 
at  pasture  over  the  river.  It  is  time  for  him  to  be  back." 
"I  am  travelling,  madam,  and  have  come  from  Livermore 
to-day,  and  being  tired  and  weary  would  like  to  stay  over 
night.  All  I  desire  is,  hay  or  grass  for  my  cattle  ;  I  have 
not  seen  an}r  grass  since  entering  this  valley."  "No,  sir, 
you  will  find  no  grass  except  near  the  river.  Our  last 
rainfall  was  very  light  and  did  the  crops  but  little  good. 
You  may  lead  your  horse  into  the  yard,  and  can  find  hay 
in  the  barn."  I  took  the  horse  into  the  }rard,  unharnessed 
her  and  gave  her  a  chance  to  roll ;  she  enjoyed  her  free 
dom  very  much.  I  went  to  the  barn  for  hay,  feeding  it  to 
the  cattle,  who  greedily  ate  it  up  and  then  I  went  for 
more.  I  asked  the  lady  for  the  privilege  of  making  some 
coffee.  She  offered  to  make  it  for  me,  but  I  told  her  I 
would  do  it  as  I  carry  a  lunch  box  for  myself  and  dog — as 
well  as  grain  for  the  horse  and  cow — I  gave  the  latter  hay 
for  the  third  time  after  the  supper.  Spreading  my  blanket 
on  the  grounc^  I  laid  myself  down  to  rest.  Soon  after,  the 


34  SAN  JOAQUIN. 


husband  came  home  and  coming  into  the  }rard  saw  a 
strange  company  around  and  inquired  of  his  wife,  "What 
have  you  got  here?"  "This  man  came  along,  said  he  was 
travelling  and  had  come  from  Livermore  that  morning ; 
he  wanted  to  stop  over  night  and  I  told  him  he  might." 
"Who  is  he,  where  is  he  from,  and  where  is  he  going?" 
asked  the  man.  "I  asked  him  no  questions,  as  I  was  ex 
pecting  3Tou  before  this,"  she  replied.  I  heard  the  con 
versation  and  told  him  his  wife  had  related  the  facts.  "Now 
you  may  ask  any  questions  you  please  of  me."  I  had 
risen  from  my  couch  and  was  standing  before  him.  It  was 
not  yet  dark.  "Stranger,  who  are  you,  where  are  you 
from,  and  where  are  you  going  to?"  he  at  once  asked. 
Answering  said,  "I  left  Eureka  the  first  of  June,  came  to 
San  Francisco,  from  there  to  San  Jose,  and  from  there  to 
this  place.  I  am  on  my  way  home  to  Massachusetts 
where  I  belong."  "You  have  answered  my  questions^ 
can  I  believe  you  ?  When  did  you  leave  Massachusetts  ?" 
"I  left  in  the  spring  of  1880,  arrived  in  California  in  the 
month  of  May,  the  same  year.  Have  been  in  this  State  a 
little  more  than  two  years."  "And  now  you  are  return 
ing  home  to  Massachusetts?"  "Yes,  sir,  I  am."  "Stran 
ger,  I  am  satisfied,  but,  O  God,  what  a  journey  you  have 
before  3*ou.  I  am  from  Ohio  ;  came  out  here  in  1876  and 
am  trying  to  get  rich  by  raising  horses.  I  had  a  good 
farm  in  Ohio  ;  it  was  small  but  good.  I  sold  it,  came  here 
and  here  is  my  money.  I  own  this  house  and  all  the 
lands  you  can  see  around.  Two  years  ago  I  went  back 
to  Ohio,  made  a  wife  of  this  woman  and  came  back  and 
here  we  are,  both  of  us  home-sick  and  anxious  to  return 
to  Ohio.  Here,  however,  is  our  capital ;  we  would  sell  if 
we  could,  but  can  not.  So  far,  we  have  been  unable  to 
get  a  crop  of  wheat,  owing  to  the  drouth.  We  plough 
and  sow,  but  no  grain  to  harvest.  When  we  see  that 
the  wheat  is  not  likely  to  mature,  which  is  the  rule  rather 
than  the  exception,  we  cut  it  for  grass,  and  it  makes  ex- 


SAN  JOAQUIN.  35 


cellent  hay.  But  it  is  not  all  hay  that  is  wanted  ;  we  need 
grain.  Stranger,  you  say  you  are  on  your  way  east,  with 
that  outfit — horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog.  Now,  I  do 
not  say  that  it  can  not  be  done,  but  I  think  the  chances 
are  against  you — nine  to  one.  The  horse  you  can  get 
through,  but  the  cow  impossible,  unless  you  get  her  shod 
with  iron  shoes  ;  then  you  stand  a  fair  show.  The  horse 
you  can  get  shod  any  where  on  the  road,  but  the  cow  few 
can  shoe.  In  shoeing  her  she  will  have  to  be  confined  in 
a  brake  that  will  hold  her  secure.  Now,  friend  stranger, 
as  soon  as  you  come  to  a  blacksmith  that  knows  how  to 
make  an  ox-shoe,  you  should  get  her  shod  if  you  have  to 
build  a  brake  on  purpose,  and  don't  you  forget  it.  Stran 
ger,  I  see  you  are  the  man  for  the  journey.  Well,  wife,  I 
want  some  soipper.  Have  you  been  to  supper,  stranger?" 
"Yes,  sir,  I  have",  I  ate  my  supper  more  than  an  hour 
ago."  "Sit  up  and  eat  another  with  us  ;  how  is  it  about 
your  cattle^  have  they  had  their  supper?"  "Yes,  sir;  I 
fed  them  with  your  hay,  they  ate  it  up  clean  and  I  gave 
them  more,  and  they  ate  that  up  and  again  I  gave  them 
more."  "We  will  go  out  and  see  if  they  have  eaten  that 
upland  rf  so,  will  give  them  more.  What  time  do  you  in 
tend  to  leave  in  the  morning?"  I  wish  to  start  early  so 
as  to  reach  Stockton."  "You  can't  make  Stockton  in 
one  day's  travel ;  it  will  take  you  nearly  two  days.  You 
will  have  to  cross  the  river  at  the  ferry,  on  the  boat.  You 
can  not  cross  the  river  over  the  bridge  owing  to  the 
sloughs  ;  should  you  get  in  them,  it  will  not  be  easy  get 
ting  you  out.  Go  by  the  ferry,  it  is  farther,  but  more 
sure."  At  this,  I  told  him  that  I  would  like  to  retire  as 
last  night  I  got  no  rest,  having  camped  near  to  a  saloon 
and  was  so  disturbed  that  I  could  not  sleep,  so  harnessed 
up  about  one  in  the  morning  and  left  them.  So  I  must 
have  some  sleep  to-night  or  I  can't  make  Stockton  to 
morrow.  "Wife,  give  me  a  light  and  I  will  show  the 
traveller  to  a  room."  "Friend  stranger,  I  sleep  with  my 


36  SAN    JOAQUIN. 


cattle  every  night,*  I  will  take  no  bed  in  the  house.  I 
have  been  advised  to  stay  with  them  night  and  day." 
uYou  are  right;  you  will  have  to  look  sharp  at  times  after 
them." 

I  was  up  bright  and  early  on  the  morning  of  the  21st, 
making  read3r  to  resume  m}T  journey, — feeding,  greasing 
my  wagon  and  so  on.  About  five  o'clock  my  kind  host 
was  up  and  came  out  to  my  camp  and  bade  me  good 
morning,  which  I  acknowledged.  "I  see  you  mean  busi 
ness,"  said  he*  "you  have  fed  your  companions  it  seems." 
"Yes,  sir,  I  intend  to  look  out  for  them."  "You  are 
right ;  our  breakfast  is  ready,  my  wife  intends  you  should 
partake  of  it  with  us  before  you  leave."  After  breakfast, 
(that  was  about  half- past  six)  I  was  ready  to  ^nove  on,  and 
turning  to  my  host  said  :  "Friend,  how  much  shall  I  pay 
you  for  the  hay  I  have  used  and  for  my  accommodations  ?" 
"Nothing,  sir,' not  a  dime  will  I  take,  I  hope  you  will 
succeed  in  your  undertaking.  You  have  a  long  road  be 
fore  you.  Good  morning,  success  to  you."  I  thanked 
them  and  moved  on.  At  one  o'clock  we  arrived  at  the 
river  and  crossed  over,  and  followed  the  river  to  Stockton. 
What  a  contrast,  every  thing  so  green  and  lively  and  the 
grass  luxuriant.  As  far  down  the  valley  as  the  eye  can 
reach,  are  many  cattle  feeding.  I  stopped,  turned  the 
cattle  loose  to  graze  and  had  our  mid-day  meal.  Re 
sumed  our  journey  at  three  o'clock  anql  at  six  came  to  a 
large  farm-house,  and  proposed  to  sta}ithere  for  the  night. 
All  around  the  house  it  was  neat  and  trim  ;  in  front  a  large 
yard  with  many  noble  trees,  most  of  which  were  fruit 
trees,  of  many  kinds.  I  went  up  to  the  gate  and  seeing 
several  persons  I  halloed  and  made  signs  to  them  to 
come  towards  me  at  the  gate.  Two  lads  came,"  I  asked 
permission  to  camp  near  the  house.  They  went  back  and 
soon  the  lady  of  the  house  returned  with  the  boys.  After 
passing  compliments  of  the  day  I  told  her  of  my  journey, 


THE  RANCHE.  37 


and  asked  if  I  could  camp  on  their  grounds  for  the  night. 
"You  say  }TOU  are  travelling  East ;  how  far  East?"  "To 
Massachusetts,  that  is  my  home  when  there."  Massachu 
setts  is  a  long  distance  from  here,"  said  the  lady.  "Yes, 
ma'am,  I  am  aware  of  it."  "Yes,  yon  can  camp  here." 
"You  have  any  quantity  of  grass,*  would  you  allow  me  to 
turn  my  cattle  loose  so  that  they  might  eat  grass  for  their 
supper?"  "Yes,  indeed,  it  will  do  them  good.  Stranger, 
I  have  some  interest  in  this  interview.  When  you  said 
your  home  was  in  Massachusetts,  I  felt  anxious  to  learn 
your  where-a-bouts."  "My  home  is  in  the  town  of  Web 
ster  and  county  of  Worcester."  "Will  }^ou  allow  me  to 
ask  your  name?"  said  the  lady.  "Yes,  certainly ;  my 
name  is  W.  B.  Johnson."  "The  reason  I  am  so  anxious 
to  learn  about  Massachusetts  is  this,  my  eldest  son,  John, 
is  going  to  school  at  Cambridge,  Harvard  College,  this 
fall.  How  far  is  Cambridge  from  j'our  town  ?"  "Cam 
bridge  is  about  fifty  miles  from  Webster."  The  lady  then 
said:  "Mr.  Johnson,  our  tea  is  ready,  come  in  and  sit 
with  us."  "Madam,  I  carry  tea,  coffee,  sugar,  milk  and 
other  things."  "That  is  all  right,  but  you  will  not  need 
them,*  you  must  make  yourself  at  home  while  here,"  she 
answered.  After  we  had  finished  supper,!  went  down  to 
my  camp,  turning  the  horse  and  cow  loose  in  the  grass. 
I  spread  nry  blankets  and  laid  myself  down.  It  was  not 
long  before  the  whole  house  was  around  me,  asking  a 
great  many  questions  in  regard  to  Massachusetts,  and  es 
pecially  about  Cambridge.  I  told  them  it  was  a  fine  citj', 
about  three  miles  from  Boston  and  one  of  the  handsomest 
in  America.  About  nine  o'clock  I  secured  the  horse  and 
cow  for  the  night  and  said  to  the  lady  :  "I  will  show  you 
my  manner  of  camping  at  night ;  my  horse  I  secure  to  the 
wheel  of  my  wagon,  and  the  cow  opposite.  I  lay  between 
them ;  if  any  one  comes  around  I  soon  should  know  it,, 
my  little  dog  is  good  for  sleeping  with  one  eye  open." 
"But  you  are  not  going  to  sleep  here  with  your  cattle?" 


THE  RANCHE. 


said  the  lady.  "Oh,  yes*  I  dare  not  leave  them.  I  have 
been  advised  to  look  sharp  after  them."  "Mr.  Johnson, 
there  is  no  danger  here  ;  no  one  will  take  them."  "Mad 
am,  I  have  a  fine  horse,  she  is  a  Morgan.  I  was  offered 
three  hundred  dollars  for  her,  but  refused  it."  "You  will 
stop  over  to-morrow?"  asked  the  lady.  "I  think  I  will ; 
my  cattle  need  rest  and  this  fine  grass  is  tempting  for 
them."  "Mr.  Johnson,  you  are  a  stranger  to  us;  we 
never  saw  you  or  heard  of  you  before.  I  have  no  reason 
to  think  you  are  a  fraud, "my  sympathies  are  with  you." 
"Wh}T?"  "Because  you  say  your  home  is  in  Massachu 
setts  and  3rou  are  on  your  way  there,  also  my  son,  John, 
is  going  to  that  State.  He  will  make  his  home  there  for 
a  time  ;  perhaps,  you  will  make  his  acquaintance  there;  I 
wish  you  might.  Who  knows  what  will  come  out  of  this 
interview.'  Mr.  Johnson,  I  wish  3rou  would  take  a  bed  in 
the  house,* your  cattle  will  be  safe,' I  will  be  responsible 
for  them.  We  own  all  the  land  as  far  as  you  can  see  ; 
there  was  a  time  when  we  owned  thirty  thousand  acres." 
"Lady,  please  excuse  me,*  I  prefer  to  sleep  outside.  Cali 
fornia  has  no  rainy  nights  this  time  of  the  3rear."  "John, 
you  and  Charlie  go  into  the  house  and  bring  the  mattress 
off  mjr  bed.  I  will  sleep  in  the  front  room  to-night," 
said  the  lady.  The  boys  fetched  the  mattress.  "Where 
will  3rou  have  it?"  she  asked.  "In  the  rear  of  the  wagon, 
madam ;  I  see  that  you  are  determined  to  have  me  sleep 
on  a  bed."  "Mr.  Johnson,  these  grounds  are  quite 
moist,  of  the  grass  would  not  be  so  green.  That  river 
3ronder  makes  things  green  ;  if  it  were  not  for  that,  evety- 
thing  would  be  dried  up  as  3*ou  found  on  coming  here. 
Well,  bo3rs,  we  will  leave  Mr.  Johnson  for  the  night ; 
good  night."  "Good  night,  and  thank  you,  lady." 

On  the  morning  of  the  22nd  I  was  awakened  by  the 
bellowing  of  a  bull  in  the  meadows.  My  cow,  Bessie, 
heard  him  and  answered.  I  do  not  know  what  she  said 


THE  RANCHE.  39 


to  him,  but  I  know  she  was  very  uneasy.  I  bade  her  be 
quiet  and  go  to  rest ;  I  continued  in  bed  some  time  long 
er  when  I  heard  the  rumbling  of  a  carriage.  Soon  it  was 
opposite  to  my  camp  and  there  stopped.  "Mr.,  what  are 
you  doing  there?"  asked  one.  "Doing,  can't  you  see 
what  I  am  doing.  It  is  not  time  to  get  up  yet?  they  are 
not  stirring  in  the  house,"  I  answered.  "Who  gave  you 
permission  to  camp  there?"  another  asked.  "Go  on, 
don't  ask  me  such  a  question, 'go  on."  "Yes,  go  on, 
don't  stop  here  so  early  in  the  morning,"  said  a  voice 
from  the  window.  They  went  on,  but  I  had  got  so  thor 
oughly  awakened,  that  soon  after  I  arose  and  turned  loose 
the  horse  and  cow,  so  that  they  could  make  a  hearty  re 
past  of  the  fine  grass.  Soon  after,  the  inmates  of  the 
house  were  up  and  all  hands  at  work.  The  lady  and  her 
son,  John,  came  down  to  my  camp  and  bade  me  good 
morning.  "Mr.  Johnson,  how  are  you  this  morning ;  did 
you  have  a  good  night's  rest?"  she  asked.  "I  did  ;  that 
mattress  was  a  big  improvement  to  the  ground,"  I  replied. 
"Mr.  Johnson,  our  breakfast  is  about  ready ,*come  and 
take  a  dish  of  coffee,  a  bit  of  steak,  and  perhaps  a  bciled 
egg.  We  will  go  and  see  what  we  have."  "Thank  you, 
I  will ;  I  am  not  afraid  to  leave  my  cattle  for  a  good 
breakfast."  "Had  }*ou  taken  a  bed  inside  last  night,  you 
would  have  fared  better  than  in  the  breakfast,"  said  the 
lady.  "I  doubt  that ;  I  had  a  good  bed*  the  mattress  was 
an  improvement,  I  found."  "But  still  it  was  on  the 
ground  and  no  springs  under  it,"  replied  the  lady.  "That 
no  doubt  would  make  some  difference.  I  will  stay  over 
another  night  and  reverse  it."  "Yes,  that  will  decide  it. 
You  can  stay  as  long  as  you  like.  There  is  plenty  of  grass  ; 
should  3'ou  prefer  hay  or  grain,  there  is  plenty  in  the 
barn,  and  what  is  more,  you  can  put  your  cattle  in  as 
well  and  turn  the  key  on  them,  then  you  can  sleep  with 
both  eyes  shut ;  you  could  have  done  so  last  night."  "It 
was  as  well  as  it  was."  After  breakfast  I  returned  to 


40  THE  RANCHE. 


camp  and  cleaned  my  harness  and  other  traps.  Soon  I 
had  company  who  staid  with  me  until  the  dinner-bell  rang. 
"Mr.  Johnson,  the  bell  tells  me  the  dinner  is. ready,"  let 
us  go  see  what  Kate  has  for  dinner,"  remarked  my  host 
ess.  We  went  up  and  seven  of  us  sat  down  to  a  good 
dinner  of  roast  beef,  pudding  and  pies. 

After  dinner  and  the  household  attended  to,  rny  hostess 
said,  "John,  harness  up  the  horses  and  we  will  take  Mr. 
Johnson  around  the  farm."  It  did  not  take  long  to  get 
the  horses  out  and  hitched  in  the  carriage,  and  mother, 
son  and  daughter  and  myself  were  seated  in  the  carriage, 
when  on  we  went  upon  a  tour  round  the  farm.  Riding 
about  a  mile,  the  team  was  halted  and  we  got  out.  "Mr. 
Johnson,  yonder  is  the  river,"  pointing  in  the  direction, 
"where  you  crossed  on  the  boat.  From  that  point  to 
yonder  barn,  and  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  extend  our 
lands.  Now  we  will  get  in  the  carriage  and  go  on  to  the 
ranche."  After  riding  about  two  miles  the  ranche  was 
reached.  The  lady/pointing,  said,  "From  that  ranche  to 
3Tonder  fence  is  the  dividing  line,  running  down  to  the 
river  *  where  you  cross  the  ferry  are.  the  boundaries  of  our 
farm.  The  land  is  divided  into  four  parts  or  ranches.  I 
live  about  the  center  ;  there  are  no  better  lands  in  the  state 
than  these  of  ours.  Those  meadows  running  parallel  with 
the  river,  you  can  see  how  rich  and  green  they  look. 
They  feed  thousands  of  cattle  every  year."  John  turned 
the  horses  heads  homeward^  where  we  arrived  having  en 
joyed  a  very  pleasant  ride  ;  as  we  drove  into  the  yard,  my 
horse  and  cow  saluted  me.  "Why,  Mr.  Johnson,  your 
cattle  know  3~ou  better  than  I  do,"  said  the  lacty.  "They 
know  me  as  well  as  I  know  them,  I  am  sure,"  I  remark 
ed.  When  we  got  back  it  was  almost  supper  time.  In 
about  half  an  hour  my  hostess  called  me  to  partake  of  tea 
again  with  her  family.  "Mr.  Johnson,  will  you  stop  an 
other  day  with  us?"  asked  the  lady.  "Madam,  I  would 
like  to,  but  I  can't,"  I  have  a  long  journey  before  me." 


THE  RANCHE.  41 


"Yes,  indeed,  you  have.  Do  you  think  you  can  reach 
that  distance."  "Yes,  I  can,  if  I  do  not  find  many 
places  like  this.  If  I  do  it  will  take  me  a  long  time  to 
reach  my  home."  "Mr.  Johnson,  mother  seems  to  mani 
fest  a  deep  interest  in  your  welfare,"  said  John.  "Yes, 
indeed,  I  do,  Mr.  Johnson.  It  is  because  my  son  is  to 
go  to  school  in  your  State.  How  far  did  you  say  you  were 
from  Cambridge?"  the  lady  remarked.  "About  fifty  miles 
from  Webster."  "Mr.  Johnson,  I  hope  you  will  hunt 
him  up  and  make  his  acquaintance  ;  call  on  him  as  he 
may  become  home-sick  and  wish  to  return  home,  I  hope 
not,  however ;  what  time  will  you  leave  us  in  the  morn 
ing?"  "I  intend  to  begin  my  journey  about  six  o'clock. 
I  would  like  to  stop  a  short  time  at  Stockton.  That  is  a 
fine  place,  I  suppose?"  "We  call  Stockton  a  smart  city, 
with  a  population  of  15,000  ;  our  best  flour  in  the  State  is 
made  there,"  replied  the  lady. 

On  the  morning  of  the  23rd  I  was  up  early,  as  usual, 
and  about  my  preparations  for  the  day's  tramp,  when  a 
voice  called  from  one  of  the  windows  of  the  house,  "Mr. 
Johnson,  are  you  about  ready  to  leave,  won't  you  stop  and 
have  breakfast  with  us  ?"  I  took  the  mattress  in  my  arms 
and  went  to  the  house  with  it ;  on  entering  I  met  the  lady, 
who  bade  me  good  morning.  "You  are  about  to  leave  us, 
I  did  not  wish  yon  to  go  so  soon.  Kate  is  a  little  late 
with  the  breakfast,  but  the  coffee  is  ready,and  it  will  but 
take  a  moment  to  broil  a  steak.  Take  a  seat  at  the  table," 
I  will  soon  be  with  you."  Having  partaken  of  a  good 
meal^  said  to  the  lady,  "We  met  as  strangers,  but  as 
such  we  do  not  part ;  allow  me  to  thank  you  for  your 
kindness  and  generous  hospitality, 'it  has  been  a  strange 
meeting."  "It  has,"  she  answered.  "I  do  not  know 
what  to  think  about  it.  John  is  at  the  bottom  of  it,"  I 
replied.  "I  bid  you  a  reluctant  good-by."  "Good -by*  I 
hope  you  will  succeed  in  making  your  long  journey.  Can 


42  STOCKTON. 


it  be  possible  }7ou  have  to  travel  four  thousand  miles  to 
reach  jour  home  commented  ?  "  the  lady. 

Stockton. — Left  Mansion  Ranche  at  seven  o'clock  and 
I  reached  Stockton  about  10  o'clock.  On  my  arrival,  I 
gave  my  cattle  water  and  grain  and  while  they  were  eat 
ing  I  rambled  about  the  city.  It  is  not  a  large  city,  but 
is  solid  and  compact,  with  a  population  of  15,000,  and  is 
pleasantly  laid  out.  About  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
I  left  Stockton  on  my  way  to  Sacramento.  Travelling 
about  a  mile  I  came  to  a  fine  patch  of  grass  where  I  stop 
ped  for  the  night,  turning  the  animals  loose  and  giving 
them  a  chance  to  select  their  own  feeding.  I  gathered 
some  fuel,  made  a  fire,  cocked  some  coffee,  made  my  sup 
per  and  made  ready  for  the  night.  The  cow  had  eaten 
her  fill  and  was  quietly  at  rest.  It  was  not  so  with  the 
horse,  she  continued  to  eat  the  grass.  I  secured  the  cow 
and  went  for  the  horse  but  she  would  not  be  caught,*  I  was 
unable  to  get  near  her.  Went  back  to  my  camp*  the 
horse  continuing  to  eat,  I  took  no  notice  of  her.  Soon 
she  came  around  and  I  got  up  to  secure  her,  but  no,  she 
would  not  let  me.  I  got  some  grain  and  gave  it  to  the 
cow,  and  quickly  she  came  for  her  share.  I  said  to  her : 
"Fanny,  3^011  know  about  as  much  as  your  master." 

I  arose  quite  early  on  the  morning  of  the  24th.  It  was 
not  yet  da}T-light#  I  turned  the  cattle  loose  for  grass  and 
returned  to  my  couch  on  the  ground.  In  about  an  hour 
after  I  called  them  in  and  fed  them  with  grain.  While 
they  were  eating^ I  packed  up  my  bedding,  greased  the 
wagon  and  made  all  ready  for  continuing  the  journey.  It 
was  about  five  o'clock  when  we  left  camp.  On  my  left 
went  the  road,  and  still  further  to  the  left  flowed  the  Sac 
ramento  river.  We  travelled  until  nine  o'clock  when  we 
halted  for  water  and  a  light  feed.  For  myself,  I  had  some 
cold  milk  and  crackers.  At  noon  we  reached  a  store, 
stopped  and  watered  the  horse  and  cow,  and  I  inquired 
the  distance  to  Gait.  "It  is  about  fourteen  -miles ;  are 


GALT.  43 


you  going  to  Gait?"  asked  the  stranger.  I  answered  in 
the  affirmative.  "Where  are  you  from?"  "Stockton." 
"You  have  come  past  the  road  to  Gait ;  you  should  have 
taken  the  right-hand  road  about  five  miles  back,"  said  the 
man.  "Must  I  return  back  to  that  road?"  I  asked.  "You 
must."  "That  is  too  bad  ;  why  do  you  not  put  out  a 
shingle  so  that  a  stranger  can't  miss  but  take  the  right 
road.  This  makes  me  ten  miles  extra  travel,  on  such  a 
hot  day  as  this,  too."  I  turned  back  to  the  road  indicated, 
and  then  travelled  until  I  came  to  a  fine-looking  ranche. 
I  stopped,  went  up  to  the  house  and  as  I  was  about  to  knock, 
a  man  came  out.  I  passed  the  compliments  of  the  day, 
told  him  my  story  and  asked  permission  to  camp  on  his 
premises,  telling  him  that  I  had  grain  and  hay  for  my 
cattle  and  some  grub  for  myself.  He  asked,  "Where  was 
I  from  and  where  are  you  going  to?"  I  answered,  "From 
Eureka  to  Sacramento."  "Yes,  you  can  stop  if  you  like. 
Turn  into  the  corral ;  you  can  sleep  on  that  straw,* it  will 
make  you  a  first-rate  bed,"  said  the  man.  "Now,  for 
some  hay,  if  you  please,  sir?"  He  went  to  the  barn  and 
commenced  throwing  down  some  hay.  "Is  this  for  me?" 
I  asked.  "Yes,  how  much  do  you  want?"  he  asked. 
"You  have  thrown  down  twice  as  much  as  the  cattle  will 
eat,"  I  replied.  "Give  it  to  them;  let  them  have  as 
much  as  they  like,'  it  won't  hurt  them,"  he  answered.  I 
then  asked  permission  to  make  a  dish  of  tea.  The  man 
took  me  to  the  house  and  remarked  to  his  wife,  "This 
man  is  a  traveller ;  has  come  from  Humboldt  county 
and  wants  to  make  some  tea,  if  you  have  no  objection. 
I  told  him  to  come  in  ;  did  I  say  right?"  "Yes,  of  course. 
We  have  travelled  too  much  ourselves  to  object  to  such 
a  thing.  You  have  come  from  Eureka  ;  how  far  are  you 
going?"  she  asked.  "To  Sacramento,"  I  replied.  "You 
need  not  make  any  tea ;  ours  is  about  ready  and  we  have 
plenty  of  it,  you  will  sup  with  us,"  said  the  wife  "When 
did  you  leave  Eureka,  stranger?"  "The  first  of  June 


44  GALT. 

last.  "You  have  been  a  long  time  on  your  wajr,  strang 
er."  "Yes,  I  have  ;  I  stopped  in  San  Francisco  nearly 
two  weeks  ;  I  came  down  the  overland  road  to  the  city.  I 
had  travelled  only  one  hundred  and  eight  miles,  when  I 
was  obliged  to  stop  fifteen  days  on  account  of  my  horse 
having  wrenched  one  of  her  feet,  which  caused  me  an  ex 
tra  tramp  of  fifty-two  miles  to  get  her  shod."  "Well, 
stranger,  you  are  a  plucky  old  fellow.  There  is  scarcely 
a  young  man  who  would  have  undertaken  such  a  journey,* 
you  must  come  to  the  table  and  have  a  dish  of  tea."  Hav 
ing  done  justice  to  the  supper^I  retired  to  my  camp, 
looked  to  ni}'  sleeping  quarters  and  arranged  my  bed  and 
laid  me  down.  I  had  scarcely  got  settled  when  a  voice 
said:  "Hello,  traveller,  have  you  retired  for  the  night? 
My  wife  bade  me  to  tell  }*ou  to  have  a  bed  in  the  house." 
"Please  say  to  your  wife  that  I  thank  her  very  much,  and 
that  I  have  a  better  bed  here  than  she  has  inside.  How 
ever,  friend,  I  will  pay  you  for  the  hay  I  have  used,  as  I 
shall  start  on  ray  journey  early  in  the  morning,  and  per 
haps  before  you  are  around."  "I  charge  you  nothing  for 
your  supper  nor  for  that  of  your  cattle,  and  the  same  if 
you  will  stop  and  have  breakfast  with  us  in  the  morning ; 
which  I  think  you  will  do  if  you  dream  of  it  over  night. 

On  the  morning  of  the  '25th  I  was  not  as  anxious  to  be 
travelling  as  usual.  My  good  fare  and  that  of  the  cattle 
no  doubt  made  me  feel  indolent^so  that  I  slept  longer  than 
I  intended.  I  was  watering  my  cattle  and  giving  them 
some  hay  when  the  man  of  the  house  came  along  saying, 
"Good  morningj  stranger  ;  did  you  sleep  well  during  the 
night  ?  I  did  not  expect  to  find  }'ou  here  ;  I  thought  you 
would  have  been  half  way  to  Gait  by  this  time."  "The 
last  words  you  said  to  me  last  night,  were  the  first  that 
came  to  me  this  morning,  and  having  over-slept  through 
weariness,  here  I  am."  'Come  in,  our  breakfast  is  ready." 
We  went  in  and  turning  to  his  wife  he  said:  "I  found 


GALT.  45 

him  in  bed,*  he  seemed  to  care  but  little  whether  school 
kept  or  not."  In  answer  to  her  greetings,  "I  told  her 
that  I  had  rested  well,  and  over-slept,or  should  have  been 
eating  breakfast  in  Gait  instead  of  there.  I  thanked 
them  for  their  hospitality,  and  asked  them  to  show  the 
same  hospitality  to  the  next  traveller  like  me."  "I  was 
welcome,"  they  said,  "but  thought  they  would  have  to 
wait  a  long  time  for  such  another  traveller."  Good-byes 
were  uttered  and  I  drove  off  on  my  journey. 

Travelling  along,  presently  we  came  to  a  field  of 
melons ;  I  stopped,  went  into  the  field  and  appropriated 
four  of  the  best  I  could  find,  and  then  continued  on  our 
journey.  The  morning  was  fine  and  very  warm,*  about 
eleven  o'clock  we  arrived  at  Gait.  Here  we  crossed  the 
railroad  ;  after  crossing,  I  stopped  for  dinner.  We  rested 
two  hours  and  then  resumed  our  journey,* at  this  time  I 
passed  through  several  wheat  fields.  They  are  about  two 
miles  long ;  several  machines  were  at  work  cutting  the 
wheat.  I  stopped  to  watch  the  working  of  one  of  the 
machines ;  it  was  drawn  by  six  horses.  As  they  came 
round  near  where  I  was  I  inquired,  "How  many  bushels 
to  the  acre  do  you  thrash?"  "About  eight  bushels,"  was 
the  answer.  Only  eight  bushels.  I  passed  on  ;  I  was  very 
hot,  not  a  shade  to  be  had,  the  full  burst  of  the  sun  on 
our  heads.  Travelling  further,  I  noticed  to  my  left  a 
ranche,  for  which  I  made.  I  went  to  the  house,  in  front 
of  which  was  a  fine,  large,  live  oak.  Two  ladies  were 
sitting  under  its  shade.  I  bade  them  good  day,  which 
they  politely  returned.  "Ladies,  I  have  been  travelling 
since  early  this  morning ;  it  has  been  a  hot  day* would 
3Tou  allow  me  to  stop  awhile  under  this  tree/it  makes  a 
fine  shade,  I  have  seen  nothing  like  it  to-day."  They  an 
swered,  "I  might  with  pleasure."  I  got  permission  to 
use  water  from  the  well  with  which  I  refreshed  both  man 
and  beast  and  then  spread  out  my  blanket  and  laid  down. 
The  ladies  soon  retired  and  I  continued  to  lay  under  the 


46  GALT. 

tree  in  the  shade.  After  a  while  one  of  the  ladies  canie 
up  to  me  and  said,  "Stranger,  will  you  excuse  me  for  of 
fering  you  some  refreshment*  }'ou  must  be  weary  travel 
ling  on  so  warm  a  day.  Here  is  a  dish  of  tea  and  some 
refreshments'  please  accept  them."  "Thank  }rou,  madam, 
It  has  been  a  very  warm  day."  Before  eating  I  asked 
the  lady,  "If  she  could  accommodate  me  with  some  hay 
for  my  horse  and  cow."  She  answered  "Yes,  I  think  so. 
My  husband  will  be  home  soon'  you  can  have  somey 
whether  he  comes  or  not."  "Shall  I  wait  until  he  comes 
or  not?"  I  asked.  "No,  it  is  not  necessary, "you  can  help 
yourself,'it  is  in  the  barn,"  she  replied.  I  went  for  some 
and  gave  it  them,  and  they  ate  it  as  if  they  were  starved. 
When  it  was  done,  the  lady  said,  "Your  cattle  were  hun- 
gryf  you  may  get  them  more* give  them  all  they  can  eat; 
the  hay  is  good  and  cheap."  "I  think  it  is  wheat  hay,"  I 
said.  She  answered  in  the  affirmative.  "Madam,  th;s  is 
a  good  place  to  camp,'  if  }X>u  have  no  objection  I  will  re 
main  over  night ;  I  always  travel  early  in  the  morning  and 
will  try  and  reach  Sacramento  to-morrow,"  I  remarked. 
"Mister,  you  are  a  stranger  to  us  ;  we  like  }Tour  appear 
ance  and  think  you  are  all  right.  But  should  my  husband 
come  home  as  he  does  some  times,  you  might  be  roughly 
handled  ;  if  you  will  run  your  chances,  we  will  ours.  I  am 
satisfied  that  you  are  what  you  appear  to  be  ;  we  don't  go 
to  bed  without  our  doors  being  all  bolted,"  said  the 
lady.  I  asked  the  lady  for  more  hay  which  she  allowed 
and  I  gave  it  all  to  the  cattle.  I  milked  the  cow  and  gave 
it  to  the  lady/who  was  pleased  to  accept  it,  as  she  said  at 
that  time  they  had  no  cow  ;  the  cow  yielded  about  four 
quarts.  "How  much  a  quart  do  you  ask  for  the  milk?" 
she  asked.  I  answered,  "Nothing,  to  you.  But  how 
much  for  the  hay  I  have  used  for  my  cattle  ?"  She  an 
swered,  "Nothing,  to  you."  About  eight  o'clock  the 
owner  of  the  ranche  came  home  and  put  up  his  horse  and 
went  directly  into  the  house.  Shortly  after  he  came  out 


LIVE  OAK  RANCHE.  47 


and  made  directly  for  my  camp,  and  said  :  "Good  even 
ing.  Are  you  the  man  who  stopped  about  three  miles 
from  here  and  inquired  how  much  wheat  to  the  acre  ?" 
"Yes,  sir;  I  am."  "I  thought  you  were.  Where  are 
you  travelling  to?"  "I  am  going  to  Sacramento  ;  it  has 
been  so  warm  through  the  day  that  when  I  got  here  I 
thought  I  could  go  no  further,  and  seeing  this  fine  shade- 
tree  I  asked  permission  to  stop  and  am  still  here  and  have 
fed  my  cattle  on  your  hay  and  given  the  milk  from  my 
cow  to  your  lady.  Have  I  done  right  or  wrong?"  "You 
look  like  a  man  that  would  do  right  every  time,"  you  have 
done  as  I  should  have  done  ;  any-how,  I  will  let  you  pass. 
Won't  you  go  in  the  house  and  take  a  bed,  stranger?"  "I 
prefer  to  sleep  under  this  tree, 'I  think  no  harm  will  come 
to  me,*  good  night."  "Good  night,  sir." 

Live  Oak  Ranche. — The  morning  of  the  26th  was 
bright,  so  I  arose  early  and  attended  to  my  travelling 
companions.  As  I  was  watering  them  the  proprietor  of 
the  house  halloed,  "Stranger,  do  you  think  your  cow 
would  give  us  some  milk  for  coffee  this  morning.  There 
is  plenty  of  hay  and  grain  in  the  barn,'give  them  all  they 
need."  "Friend,  my  cattle  have  been  well  cared  for  since 
camping  here."  "What  I  was  driving  at  was  to  give  my 
wife  time  to  get  the  breakfast  ready  and  have  you  par 
take  of  it.  It  is  not  the  milk  but  the  joke  I  am  after," 
said  my  host.  "I  see  it ;  give  me  a  pail  and  I  will  get 
you  the  milk."  After  milking  the  cow  and  giving  it  to 
the  lady  of  the  house,  I  was  invited  in  to  breakfast,  which 
I  accepted.  After  the  meal  I  got  ready  for  my  day's 
journey ;  on  doing  so  I  bade  them  good-b}re  and  thanked 
them  for  their  hospitality.  I  left  them  amid  wishes  for 
my  success.  It  was  about  six  o'clock  when  we  started  on 
our  way  for  Live  Oak  Ranche,  and  travelled  until  nine, 
when  we  halted  from  over-heat  and  weariness.  Not  a 
shade  tree  to  protect  us  from  the  rays  of  the  sun.  "Well, 


48  ELK   GROVE    STATION. 

Fanny,  we  must  go  on,  it  will  not  do  to  stop  here  in  this 
blazing  sun."  We  passed  on  until  we  came  in  sight  of  a  line 
of  railroad  ;  when  near  the  crossing  we  came  to  a  swamp 
of  timber.  Here  we  succeeded  in  getting  from  under  the 
burning  sun  and  remained  here  the  remainder  of  the  day. 
The  cattle  had  but  a  sparse  feeding  ground  for  grass. 
Grain  and  food  for  myself  I  had  always  with  me. 

Elk  Grove  Station. — The  morning  of  the  27th  we  start 
ed  on  our  day's  work  as  soon  as  it  was  light  enough  to 
see  our  way,  crossing  the  railroad  at  Elk  Grove  station. 
The  sun  was  getting  high,  not  a  breath  of  air,  very  hot 
and  sultry  ;  a  good  road,  however,  but  dusty.  "Well," 
addressing  my  horse,  "where  is  our  shade  tree  for  the 
day,  we  shall  need  one  soon,  it  is  too  hot  to  travel."  Af 
ter  tramping  on  a  while  longer  we  sighted  a  ranche,  with 
a  house  built  in  a  modern  style  and  in  the  rear  was  a  fine 
shade  tree.  There  did  not  appear  to  be  any  thing  to"  pre 
vent  my  use  of  it  for  rest ;  so  I  went  to  the  house  and  rang 
the  bel^  which  was  answered  by  a  lady.  I  said  to  her, 
"Madam,  I  am  travelling  with  a  horse  and  carriage,  lead 
ing  a  cow.  It  is  very  warm  ;  I  would  like  to  stop  for  a 
while  in  the  shade,  that  myself  and  cattle  might  get  from 
under  the  rays  of  the  scorching  sun.  I  see  you  have  a 
fine  shade  in  the  rear  of  the  house,* would  you  allow  me  to 
use  it  for  a  time ?"  "Where  are  you  from?"  she  asked. 
"I  am  from  Euieka  city."  "What,  with  that  cow  from 
that  distance?"  she  questioned.  "Yes,  ma'am  ;  just  as  I 
am,  with  that  horse,  carriage  and  cow."  "Yes,  sir;  }fou 
can  give  your  cattle  the  benefit  of  the  shade,*  it  will  be  a 
luxury  to  them  this  hot  day,"  answered  the  lady.  I  le|d 
my  cattle  around  to  the  rear  and  hitched  them  there, 
giving  them  water.  I  spread  my  blankets  on  the  ground 
and  laid  myself  down  on  them  ;  it  was  delightful.  While 
lying  down  I  fell  asleep  ;  I  do  not  know  how  long  I  had 
slept,  but  the  lady  of  the  house  awoke  me  and  said: 


SACRAMENTO.  49 


"Stranger,  would  you  like  some  dinner ;  it  is  now  ready,* 
come  and  sit  down  and  have  a  dish  of  teaf  you  are  cordi 
ally  welcome."  I  accepted  her  offer  and  went  in  and  sat 
down  to  an  excellent  dinner.  After  we  were  through  with 
dinner  I  asked  the  lady  to  sell  me  some  hay  for  the  cattle. 
She  told  me  they  had  plenty  in  the  barn  and  go  and  help 
myself  to  all  I  wished.  I  did  so  and  fed  to  them  a  good 
quantity  of  wheat  hay,  which  my  animals  ate  with  a 
keen  relish.  "Madam,"  I  said,  "It  seems  as  though  I 
was  providentially  cared  for ;  coming  here  this  hot  day 
and  finding  such  a  pleasant  shade  and  sharing  }-our  hos 
pitality.  I  appreciate  your  kindness  and  I  know  that  my 
cattle  do ;  I  thank  you,  and  as  the  sun  is  getting  low  I 
will  resume  m}'  journey,  as  now  it  will  be  much  more  com 
fortable  travelling  and  I  can  reach  the  city  this  evening." 
The  lady  said  she  would  like  to  know  my  name.  "My 
name  is  W.  B.  Johnson,  of  Webster,  Mass."  "You  are 
an  Eastern  man,  from  Massachusetts,  it  seems.  I  thought 
you  used  New  England  language ;  we  were  formerly  of 
Springfield  in  that  State.  How  long  have  you  been  in 
this  State?"  "Two  years  and  over."  "You  are  not  re 
turning  back  to  Massachusetts?"  "I  am."  "What,  with 
that  horse  and  carriage,  leading  that  cow?"  "Yes,  just 
as  I  am."  "My  husband  is  in  the  city  attending  court  as 
a  juryman.  He  would  be  glad  to  see  you  or  any  one  from 
Massachusetts.  How  long  do  you  intend  to  stop  in  the 
city?"  asked  the  lady.  "Two  or  three  d&ys  only." 
"Where  will  you  stop?"  "I  shall  camp  out  in  some  con 
venient  place,  but,  Madam,  I  must  be  going,*  it  is  four 
o'clock.  Good  bye."  "Good-bye  ;  I  hope  you  will  arrive 
safely  in  old  Massachusetts." 

Sacramento. — About  seven  o'clock  I  reached  the  city. 
On  my  way  I  noticed  a  fine  patch  of  grass,  and  at  the 
time  thought  that  I  had  better  stop  there  and  camp  for 
the  night.  However,  I  travelled  on  to  the  city  and  then 


50  SACRAMENTO. 


thought  it  best  to  turn  back  and  camp  on  this  green  spot. 
I  did,  and  turned  my  cattle  loose  to  graze  for  themselves. 
There  was  a  house  a  short  distance  away  and  I  went  there 
for  water.  As  I  came  near  to  it  I  noticed  a  gentleman 
and  two  ladies  standing  in  front  of  the  house  ;  I  stepped 
up  to  them  and  addressing  the  gentleman  bade  him  "Good 
morning,"  which  he  acknowledged.  "Sir,  I  am  travelling, 
and  in  passing  here  to  the  city  I  noticed  }'our  fine  grass 
and  have  returned  to  camp  and  rest  for  a  while.  Can  I 
have  your  permission  so  to  do,  also  water  from  3rour  cis 
tern?"  He  answered,  that  I  might  have  all  I  wanted, 
he  had  no  objection.  I  took  water  and  gave  it  to  the 
horse  and  cow,  they  were  very  dry  and  needed  an  extra 
watering.  After  seeing  their  wants  supplied  I  spread  out 
my  blankets  and  tried  to  sleep.  The  cow  I  had  fastened 
with  her  lariat,  the  horse  I  allowed  to  ramble  about,  as  I 
knew  she  would  not  leave  the  cow. 

On  the  morning  of  the  28th,  I  passed  into  the  city  of 
Sacramento,  and  upon  reaching  a  fountain  I  stopped  to 
water  my  cattle  ;  while  doing  so,  a  man  came  out  of  one 
of  the  stores  near  by  and  said:  "Stranger,  is  that  cow 
for  sale?"  "No,  sir;  she  is  not,"  I  replied.  "I  would 
like  to  own  that  cow  ;  I  like  the  looks  of  her.  Stranger,  I 
will  give  you  a  good-price  for  her,"  "She  is  not  for  sale," 
I  answered.  "How  far  have  you  come  with  her,  strang 
er?"  "I  started  from  Eureka,  came  down  the  overland 
route  to  San  Francisco,  and  from  there  to  here."  "Where 
are  you  going  with  her,  stranger?"  "I  am  on  my  way 
East."  "How  far  East,  stranger?"  "Well,  sir;  my  in 
tentions  are  to  cross  the  continent  to  Massachusetts." 
"Massachusetts,  the  devil  you  are,  stranger?"  "Yes, 
devil  or  no  devil,  I  am."  "Are  you  going  to  take  that 
cow  with  you?  she  won't  travel  half  that  distance,,!  will 
give  you  a  big  price  for  her,  stranger."  "What  do  you 
mean  by  a  big  price?"  "I  mean  that  I  will  give  you  one 


SACRAMENTO.  51 


hundred  dollars  for  the  cow,  stranger."  "Sir,  I  do  not 
want  to  sell  her  this  morning.  I  would  like  to  stop  some 
where  in  this  vicinity  where  I  can  turn  my  cattle  out 
among  some  good  green  grass."  I  had  noticed  a  little  way 
back  some  fine  green  fields.  I  had  seen  no  such  grass 
before  reaching  Stockton,  since  leaving  San  Francisco. 
"What  is  the  cause  of  this  change?"  "Stranger,  I  will 
tell  you  the  cause.  Yonder  is  the  American  river,  point 
ing  east ;  yonder  is  the  Sacramento  river,  pointing  west ; 
the  American  river  flows  into  the  Sacramento  at  the  north. 
The  city  is  about  three-quarters  encompassed  by  these 
two  rivers.  The  American  river  is  not  so  large  as  the  Sac 
ramento,  but  has  more  fall.  It  empties  into  the  Sacra 
mento.  The  Sacramento  has  been  badly  used.  Before 
hydraulic  mining  was  known,  it  was  a  very  fine  and  navi 
gable  river.  Large  steamers  could  then  come  up  to  the 
city  and  some  distance  above.  Now  it  is  hard  work  for 
steamers  to  sail  up,  owing  to  the  mud  deposited  on  the  bed 
of  the  river  from  the  mining  on  its  banks.  There  is  but 
thirty  feet  fall  to  the  ocean.  Since  the  introduction  of 
hydraulic  mining,  the  river  bed  has  gradually  filled  up, 
until  now  there  is  only  a  depth  of  about  fourteen  feet. 
This  became  a  source  of  alarm  to  the  cit}r.  Not  only  to 
the  city,  but  to  the  land-owners  in  the  valley  as  well. 
The  river  banks  do  not  confine  its  water,  but  at  times  are 
overflowed  and  the  low  lands  are  submerged  and  continue 
so  for  some  time,  which  the  farmers  do  not  like.  I  have 
said  that  the  city  is  nearly  surrounded  by  these  rivers. 
The  earth  is  so  saturated  with  these  waters,  it  gives  us 
green  grass  the  }'ear  round.  Now,  what  we  fear  is  this  ; 
some  day  the  American  river  will  cut  through  and  spoil 
our  city  and  us  too."  "I  would  rather  have  it  come  in 
the  da}'  than  in  the  night,"  I  remarked.  "Oh,  well,  you 
are  a  Yankee,  I  will  bet  the  beer,"  answered  the  stranger. 
"You  are  right,  I  am  a  Yankee,"  I  replied.  "Now, 
stranger,  just  see  what  those  d — d  hydraulic  miners  have 


52  SACRAMENTO. 


done  with  our  city.  I  wish  they  were  obliged  to  dredge 
the  river ;  we  have  already  expended  tens  of  thousands  of 
dollars  with  but  little  good.  There  is  but  thirty  feet  fall 
from  here  to  San  Francisco,  about  one  hundred  miles, 
only  think  of  it.  We  have  a  fine  city,  but  those  d — d 
miners  are  fast  spoiling  it.  Think  of  it :  they  have  com 
pelled  us  to  commence  filling  some  portions  of  our  low 
lands,  and  now  we  have  to  fill  some  sections  from 
five  to  fifteen  feet.  Look  yonder,  and  see  how  that  house 
sets  up  from  the  ground  ;  a  new  house  just  built.  That 
yard  has  to  be  filled  up  eleven  feet.  Go  up  to  our  State 
House  and  see  what  has  been  done  there.  It  is  one  of 
the  finest  buildings  on  the  continent ;  alread}T  its  first  story 
has  been  buried,  which  laj's  now  underground.  The  time 
is  not  far  distant  when  we  shall  have  to  fill  up  our 
streets  ;  when  that  is  done  our  first  stories  will  be  under 
ground,  all  owing  to  those  hydraulic  miners.  Just  think 
of  it,  3'ou  Yankee."  Turning  to  my  good-natured  inform 
ant,  I  said  to  him,  "I  would  like  to  stop  here  two  or 
three  days,rcan  3*011  tell  me  where  I  could  get  grass  for  my 
cattle?"  "I  can  give  your  cattle  grass.  That  lot  }'onder, 
or  the  other  adjoining,  take  your  choice,  stranger."  I 
went  to  look  at  both  lots  ;  there  was  no  difference  in  them, 
except  one  had  a  large  shade  tree  on  it.  I  concluded  to 
take  the  lot  with  the  tree,  as  it  would  make  a  fine  shade 
for  myself  and  companions.  I  asked  the  man  how  much 
he  would  charge  me  per  day  for  the  use  of  the  west  lot, 
as  I  preferred  that  on  account  of  the  shade  it  affords  ?  He 
answered,  "Stranger,  turn  in  jour  cattle  into  either  lot,* I 
will  not  charge  you  anything,  not  a  dime,  either  one  or 
more  days.  Stranger,  come  in  and  get  all  the  beer  you 
wish, "it  will  cost  }*ou  nothing."  I  thanked  him^but  I  re 
fused  the  beer  ;  turned  my  cattle  loose  into  the  field  and 
camped  under  the  tree.  Remember,  that  it  was  the  last 
day  of  July,  the  mercury  up  to  127°  in  the  shade,  and  you 
can  imagine  what  a  luxuty  a  good  shade  tree  would  be  in 


SACRAMENTO.  53 


that  part  of  the  State.  It  was  now  about  eight  o'clock  in 
the  morning.and  as  yet  I  had  had  no  breakfast.  About 
six  rods  from  my  camp  was  a  house  made  with  hands,  to 
which  I  went  with  my  coffee-pot  in  hand,  to  see  if  I  could 
get  some  coffee  made,  telling  her  that  I  was  camping  for  a 
few  days  in  the  lot  opposite  her  house.  She  answered, 
"Yes,  sir ;  I  will  make  it  for  you.  I  saw  you  drive  into 
the  lot  with  a  horse,  carriage  and  cow,  and  I  think  you 
are  the  man."  The  coffee  was  soon  ready  and  I  returned 
with  it  to  my  quarters.  As  I  sat  eating  my  breakfast, 
the  lady  accompanied  b}7  two  others,  came  out  to  my 
camp,  and  said:  "Stranger,  bring  }~our  basket  in  the 
house  and  eat  at  our  table.  How  long  do  you  intend  to 
remain  here?"  "But  two  or  three  days  ;  I  was  permitted 
to  come  in  here  one  or  ten  days  free  of  charge."  "Was  it 
the  man  that  lives  in  yonder  block  ?"  she  asked.  I  an 
swered  in  the  affirmative.  The  next  question  was,  "Where 
are  you  from,  and  are  you  going  to  remain  in  the  city?" 
I  answered,  "I  am  from  Eureka,  and  am  passing  through 
this  State  on  my  way  East,  to  Massachusetts.'*  "Do  you 
mean  me  to  understand  that  you  are  travelling  to  Massa 
chusetts?"  said  the  lady  in  astonishment.  "I  do." 
"Wiry,  Mister;  that  is  a  great  way  from  here."  I  told 
her  I  was  aware  of  it.  As  she  left  me  she  said,  "As  long 
as  you  are  here,  come  in  to  make  your  tea  or  coffee  or 
anything  else  you  need,  you  will  be  welcome."  After 
breakfast  I  went  into  the  town,  looking  for  a  blacksmith's 
shop,  as  my  horse  needed  shoeing.  Finding  one,  I  re 
turned  for  the  horse  and  had  her  shod  on  all  her  feet.  It 
was  a  good  job  ;  the  cow  I  could  not  get  shod.  The  jour 
ney  through  Humboldt  and  Mendocino  counties  was  very 
trying  to  my  carriage,  the  wheels  were  light  and  the  tires 
were  of  iron  and  also  light ;  I  thought  it  was  best  to  get  the 
tires  reset  and  make  the  wheels  more  dishing,  in  order  to 
make  them  stronger.  I  took  the  carriage  to  the  black 
smith  and  had  the  tires  reset  at  a  cost  of  four  dollars. 


54  SACRAMENTO. 


The  blacksmith  remarked  that  the  tires  were  not  fit  to  be 
put  on,  they  were  so  much  worn.  I  told  him  to  put  them 
on  and  afterwards  took  the  carriage  back  to  the  camp. 

On  the  morning  of  the  29th,  as  I  was  going  down  town 
I  called  on  the  blacksmith,  when  he  said,  "Stranger,  you 
made  a  mistake  in  putting  on  those  old  tires  on  your  car 
riage  wheels,*  you  ought  not  to  have  done  so,  3*011  should 
have  put  on  good  steel  tires.  They  would  have  made  a 
good  strong  wheel  and  do  you  good  service."  "Black 
smith,  they  are  on  and  paid  for.  How  much  will  3*011 
charge  to  put  on  steel  tiresj  make  your  figures  small.  I 
have  just  paid  3*ou  four  dollars,  that  must  be  partially 
thrown  in?"  "I  will  put  on  good  steel  tires  for  ten  dol 
lars."  "Those  are  your  best  figures?  I  will  give  3*011 
eight  dollars  for  new  steel  tires,  which  with  the  setting  of 
the  old  ones  will  make  twelve  dollars.  If  3*011  will  do  it, 
I  will  bring  the  wagon  down  after  dinner,  that  is  if  3*ou 
will  put  them  on  this  afternoon ,*  will  3*011  do  it?"  "1  will 
put  them  on  for  nine  dollars,  that  is  as  low  as  I  can 
afford,"  answered  the  blacksmith.  "No,  I  will  only*  give 
3*ou  eight  dollars."  I  stopped  for  a  moment,  not  a  word 
was  said,  I  then  started  from  the  shop  and  was  on  the 
sidewalk  when  he  said  :  "Bring  3*0111'  wagon  down,  I  will 
give  you  the  dollar."  I  went  back  to  the  camp  and  was 
about  to  take  the  wagon  to  the  blacksmith,  when  m3r  lady 
neighbor  came  out  and  invited  me  in  to  her  house  for  din 
ner.  I  excused  myself  on  the  plea  of  taking  the  wagon 
to  the  blacksmith's,  but  she  pressed  me  so  that  I  took  din 
ner  with  her.  While  eating,  many  questions  were  asked 
around  the  table.  They  learned  that  my  home  was  in 
Massachusetts,  and  I  learned  that  their  former  home  was 
also  in  that  State.  After  dinner  I  took  the  carriage  to 
the  blacksmith's  and  about  five  in  the  afternoon  he  had 
re- tired  my  vehicle  and  I  returned  to  camp  all  ready  to 
leave  early  on  Monda3r  morning. 


SACRAMENTO.  55 


On  the  morning  of  the  30th,  Sunday,  a  milkman  came 
along  and  stopped  in  front  of  my  camp  and  said : 
''Stranger,  you  have  a  fine  looking  cow  there.  Where  is 
that  cow  from?"  "From  Eureka,"  I  answered.  "Where 
are  you  going  with  her?"  he  inquired.  "I  am  going  East, 
to  Massachusetts."  "You  don't  say  you  are  ;  are  }rou  go 
ing  to  old  Massachusetts  ?"  he  asked,  incredulously.  "I 
do  ;  do  you  belong  there,  Mr.  Milkman?"  "I  do,  when  I 
am  at  home,  and  I  have  a  mother  there.  I  come  from 
there,  or  just  over  the  line,  in  New  Hampshire."  "What 
part  of  Massachusetts  are  }rou  from?"  asked  the  milkman. 
"From  Worcester  county,  the  town  of  Webster."  "I 
know  all  about  the  State.  I  have  been  to  Worcester  many 
times.  Are  }TOU  honest  about  going  to  Massachusetts?" 
he  asked.  "Yes,  sir;  I  am."  "And  going  to  take  that 
cow  along  with  you?  Friend,  you  can't  do  that  much  ; 
such  a  thing  is  impossible.  Why,  sir ;  neither  she  nor 
any  other  cow  could  live  to  travel  that  distance."  "Milk 
man,  I  propose  to  try  it ;  I  may  fail  in  the  attempt." 
"You  have  a  fine  looking  horse,' she  looks  as  though  she 
could  stand  the  test,"  said  the  milkman.  "I  brought  that 
horse  from  Massachusetts  two  years  ago  ;  now  I  am  re 
turning  back  in  this  manner.  I  came  out  by  rail." 
"You  are  from  Worcester,  you  say?"  "No,  from 
Webster.  Friend,  what  do  you  think  of  that  cow?"  I 
asked.  "Friend,  stranger,  I  think  she  is  a  fine  looking 
animal,  so  handsome  ;  she  is  a  beauty.  I  wish  my  wife 
could  see  her,  and  you  too.  She  would  like  to  go  East 
with  3'ou,*she  does  not  like  here;  I  think  I  shall  return 
East  next  Spring,  if  we  can  sell  out  and  not  lose  what 
little  we  have  made.  We  don't  like  ;  never  have  done/and 
I  do  not  think  we  ever  shall."  "How  far  from  here  do 
you  live?"  I  asked.  "About  three  miles,"  answered  the 
milkman.  "Go  home  and  bring  }rour  wife  here,  perhaps^ 
she  would  like  to  see  us  all."  "It  would  make  her  more 
discontented,  she-  is  so  anxious  to  return  East  and  would 


56  SACRAMENTO. 


start  to-morrow  if  she  could."  "Do  you  think  the  cow 
will  come  in  soon?"  I  asked.  "She  does  not  look  as  if 
she  would  come  for  some  time,"  said  the  milkman.  "If 
I  mistake  not  her  time  is  now  out.  This  morning's  milk 
ing  yielded  two  quarts."  "I  think  she  will  not  come  in 
for  four  weeks,  sure.  When  do  you  leave  here?"  inquired 
the  milkman.  "I  intend  to  leave  in  the  morning.  To 
morrow  is  the  first  of  August,*!  left  Eureka  the  first  of 
June.  I  have  travelled  but  five  hundred  miles  in  that 
time.  It  won't  do  to  kill  time  in  this  way."  "Should  I 
not  see  you  again,  I  hope  you  will  succeed  in  making  }*our 
long  journey.  Yes,  3-011  will  find  it  a  long  journey  before 
you  reach  old  Massachusetts  ;  good  morning,"  said  the 
milkman.  "Good  morning;  give  my  regards  to  your 
lady,*I  would  like  to  see  her,"  I  said  in  parting.  About 
sixty  rods  from  my  camp,  on  the  other  side  of  the  rail 
road,  there  is  a  very  large  grove  that  will  accommodate  a 
large  number  of  people,  who  are  at  this  time,  assembling 
in  the  grove.  A  band  has  just  commenced  playing,  so  I 
thought  I  would  go  that  way  to  see  what  was  going  on. 
The  music  was  very  fine,  I  stood  in  the  road  or  its  limits, 
near  the  entrance  to  the  grove.  I  saw  a  carriage  coming 
irom  the  south  towards  the  grove,  a  gentleman  with  two 
ladies  drove  up  to  where  I  was  standing ;  of  course  I  did 
not  know  them.  I  was  not  thinking  about  the  milkman 
that  I  invited  to  call  en  me.  No,  rny  attention  was 
wholly  taken  up  with  the  music,' it  was  very  good.  The 
gentleman  reined  up  his  horse  and  stopped  near  me. 
This  I  noticed,  but  still  I  did  not  know  the  man,  but  he 
knew  me.  He  got  out  of  the  carriage  and  coming  up  to 
me  said  :  "Stranger,  I  know  you  very  well,*  perhaps  you 
don't  recognize  me.  I  am  the  man  who  was  talking  to 
you  this  morning  about  going  East.  I  judged  you  did 
not  know  me.  You  asked  me  to  bring  my  wife  to  visit 
you  and  the  horse  and  cow.  She  is  in  the  carriage  }'on- 
der."  We  went  to  the  carriage.  "This  is  my  wife  and 


SACRAMENTO.  57 


daughter,  Mrs.  Wood  ;  I  do  not  know  your  name,  so  will 
call  you,  stranger,"  said  the  milkman.  "You  have 
called  me  stranger,  but  hereafter  call  me  W.  B.  Johnson." 
The  lady  said,  "When  my  husband,  Mr.  Wood,  returned 
home  he  told  me  that  he  had  had  a  long  talk  with  a  man 
who  was  going  to  Massaclmsetts,  with  a  horse  and  carriage, 
leading  a  cow  ;  I  said  that  I  must  see  him.  He  told  me 
to  get  ready  and  they  would  go  and  find  you  ;  I  hastily 
made  ready,  did  not  even  stop  to  crimp  my  hair,  so 
anxious  was  I  to  see  the  man  who  was  courageous  enough 
to  cross  the  continent  with  such  an  outfit  as  yours.  I  wish 
Mr.  Wood  would  sell  his  farm  to-morrow  and  go  with 
you.  We  have  a  farm  about  three  miles  from  the  city. 
We  call  it  a  farm,  others  call  it  a  ranche.  I  am  anxious 
to  see  your  horse  and  cow."  I  requested  Mr.  Wood  to 
drive  his  lady  to  my  camp  and  I  would  follow  him  across 
the  railroad  and  be  at  the  camp  as  soon  as  they.  I  made 
the  camp  first  and  opened  the  gate  that  they  might  drive 
into  the  field  under  the  tree  for  shade.  As  they  arrived 
the  cattle  were  at  rest  under  its  shade  ;  they  quietly  gave 
it  up  for  the  visitors,  but  soon  returned  and  took  up  a 
part  of  the  shade.  "Mr.  Johnson,  what  a  fine  cow  you 
have  here,  how  handsome,  how  beautifully  she  is  marked. 
Has  she  a  name?"  queried  the  wife.  "She  has,  I  call  her 
Bessie."  "Does  she  know  her  name?"  "She  does." 
"What  a  fine  looking  horse,*  what  is  her  name?"  asked 
the  lady.  "Fanny."  "And  here  is  the  dog,  what  is  his 
name?"  inquired  the  wife.  "Albert,  I  call  him  'Bert'  for 
short."  Here  }TOU  are,  horse,  cow,  dog  and  self,  all  going 
to  Massachusetts.  Oh,  that  we  were  going  with  you,  Mr. 
Johnson  ;  I  have  been  so  sick  of  living  here  and  I  am 
so  to  da}T,  that  I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  live  to  see  the  East 
again.  It  troubles  me  very  much,  I  wish  I  were  going 
along  with  3'ou.  Mr.  Johnson,  do  you  think  3'ou  can 
make  this  long  journey?"  spoke  the  wife.  "Yes,  I  do." 
"I  hope  you  will  succeed,  but  that  cow,  I  think  you  will 


58  SACRAMENTO. 


never  succeed  in  getting  her  through,"  said  the  wife.  "If 
I  can  get  iron  shoes  on  her  feet,  I  have  no  fear  in  the 
least,  but  what  I  can  get  through  ;  if  she  falls  on  the  way, 
I  can't  do  more  than  leave  her.  Perhaps^  I  may  have  to 
stop  awhile  on  my  way."  "When  do  you  leave?"  was  the 
next  question.  "To  morrow  morning."  "I  wish  I  was  go 
ing  with  3'ou."  "You  ma}1,"  said  the  husband.  "I  want  to 
get  back  to  my  old  home,  once  more  ;  I  hope  to  see  that 
time.  When  a  person  gets  the  California  fever,  they 
will  never  be  satisfied  until  they  know  it  from  ex 
perience.  I  am  satisfied  that  there  is  more  solid  liv 
ing  in  Massachusetts  than  in  California.  Here  it  is 
all  climate  and  nothing  but  climate ;  but  I  think  it 
is  all  drouth  and  nothing  but  drouth,"  the  wife  remark 
ed.  "I  am  feeding  my  cattle  to-day  just  the  same  as  I 
would  in  winter,  and  only  the  first  of  August.  But  a 
short  distance  this  side  my  ranche,  the  grass  is  green  ;  if 
my  farm  was  one  mile  nearer  the  city  it  would  be  worth 
three  times  as  much  as  it  is  where  now  located,"  said  the 
milkman.  "What  is  the  cause  of  this  change?"  I  asked. 
"It  is  owing  to  the  two  rivers,  American  and  Sacramento. 
You  can  readily  see  how  low  and  flat  the  lands  are  ;  we 
are  almost  surrounded  by  these  rivers.  The  American 
river  is  a  powerful  one  ;  when  its  waters  get  down  to  the 
Sacramento,  its  banks  being  low,  it  overflows  and  the 
land  becomes  thoroughly  saturated,  and  holds  the  moisture 
for  a  long  time,"  said  the  milkman.  "Mr.  Johnson,  you 
leave  to-morrow  ;  I  sincerely  hope  you  will  arrive  safely 
in  old  Massachusetts,"  said  the  woman.  "Thank  you, 
both  of  you ;  I  hope  I  shall  accomplish  the  journey. 
Friendsx  should  you  come  East,  hunt  me  up  and  make  me 
a  call/it  will  pay  all  of  us."  We  bade  each  other  good 
bye.  It  had  got  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  supper 
time.  While  I  was  eating  supper,  the  man  who  gave  me 
permission  to  use  the  lot  came  to  the  camp,  says  he, 
"Stranger,  do  you  leave  us  in  the  morning?"  "Yes,  sir  ; 


SACRAMENTO.  69 


I  intend  to  do  so,"  I  answered.  "You  had  better  sell  me 
that  cow  ;  I  will  give  j'ou  one  hundred  dollars  in  gold  for 
her.  Here  it  is,  stranger ;  you  will  be  obliged  to  sell  her 
where  you  will  not  get  so  much  for  her."  "Friend,  that 
may  truly  happen  ;  she  may  die  on  the  road  and  my  horse 
also,  but  I  must  take  the  chances."  UI  hope  you  will 
succeed  in  your  undertaking  ;  should  you,  truly  it  will  be 
the  greatest  thing  on  record.  You  will  have  attained  a  round 
on  the  ladder  of  fame."  "Will  you  not  take  pay  for  what 
my  cattle  have  subsisted  upon?"  I  asked.  "Not  a  dime  ; 
I  said  the  other  day  you  might  turn  }Tour  cattle  in  for  one 
day  or  ten,  I  would  not  charge  you  a  cent,  stranger." 
"Friend,  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you,  and  would  like  to 
pay  you  in  some  way  for  your  kindness."  "Good-bye, 
friend."  "Good-bye,"  I  replied, 

On  the  morning  of  the  first  of  August,  I  was  up  early 
getting  ready  for  an  early  start.  As  I  sat  eating  my 
breakfast,  I  saw  a  man  coming  across  the  lot  and  when 
near  my  cow  he  started  on  a  sharp  run,  as  for  dear  life, 
the  cow  after  him.  At  once  I  left  my  breakfast  and  went 
for  the  cow.  The  cow  ran  but  a  short  distance  and 
turned  back.  I  went  directly  up  to  the  cow  ;  what  did  I 
find?  In  the  tall  grass  I  found  a  little  "Bessie."  It  was 
not  the  man  the  cow  was  after,  but  his  dog.  I  went  back 
and  finished  my  breakfast  but  did  not  leave  the  city  as  I 
intended  ;  I  informed  the  man  the  cause  of  the  delay  and 
told  him  why  the  cow  ran  after  him.  "It  was  not  you 
she  was  after,  but  3'our  dog,"  I  said.  "I  thought  she  was 
after  me,  I  did  not  know  that  my  dog  was  with  me, 
stranger."  "That  is  not  all,  the  cow  had  occasion  to  run 
for  the  dog,  she  had  a  little  calf  in  the  grass  and  did  not 
care  to  have  dogs  around  at  that  time  in  the  morning." 
"Is  that  so ;  then  she  has  a  calf.  I  did  not  think  she 
would  come  in  so  soon,' did  you,  stranger?"  "No,  I  did 
not ;  I  shall  have  to  remain  here  longer,*!  can't  move  at 


60  SACRAMENTO. 


present,"  I  said.  "Stay  as  long  as  you  wish, 'you  are 
welcome,  stranger."  "Friend,  I  will  sell  3*011  the  calf 
when  it  is  six  days  old."  "I  would  like  to  have  the  cow 
with  the  calf,*it  will  bring  the  cow  to  her  milk.  Friend, 
I  am  going  to  make  you  a  big  offer ;  I  will  give  you  one 
hundred  and  twenty- five  dollars  in  gold  for  that  cow  and 
calf."  "Friend,  I  do  not  want  to  sell  the  cow  ;  your  offer 
is  more  than  she  is  worth.  I  will  sell  you  the  calf  for  ten 
dollars  when  it  is  six  days  old.  That  will  be  on  Monday 
the  seventh."  "I  will  give  it  you,  here  is  the  money, 
stranger."  "I  do  not  want  the  money  now."  "I  will 
pay  }'ou  now,  you  won't  run  away  with  the  calf ;  I  will 
take  my  chances,"  said  the  stranger.  "On  the  morning 
of  the  7th  I  will  leave  the  city  and  the  calf  also.  I  prefer 
to  leave  the  calf  rather  than  have  }*ou  take  it  from  its 
mother.  I  think  it  will  be  best,"  I  remarked.  "Suit 
yourself  and  you  will  suit  me,"  he  answered. 

Sacramento  is  situated  on  the  river  of  the  same  name. 
The  American  and  Sacramento  rivers  make  a  junction 
with  the  city  between  them.  It  is  about  one  hundred  and 
twenty  miles  from  San  Francisco.  When  that  golden 
gong  sounded  in  1848  there  was  no  Sacramento  cit}r. 
Eastern  immigration  made  the  place.  Navigation  up  this 
river  to  the  present  city  was  good  for  large  steamers,  and 
smaller  ones  could  sail  up  a  much  greater  distance.  High 
in  the  mountain  valk^'S  are  the  mining  camps,  some  of 
which  have  become  towns,  such  as  Auburn,  Maiysville, 
Grass  Valley,  Nevada  city  and  many  others,  all  of  which 
sprang  into  existance  at  the  time  of  the  gold  craze.  Man}' 
kinds  of  merchandize  were  taken  there,  even  lumber  from 
the  State  of  Maine  was  imported  to  Sacramento.  While 
this  was  going  on,  the  city  was  growing  and  now  is  the 
second  in  size  and  commercial  value  in  the  State ;  her 
population  is  nearly  30,000.  It  is  a  fine  city,  beautifully 
laid  out  with  fine  streets  and  boulevards,  well  shaded. 


SACRAMENTO.  61 


Shaded,  did  I  say  ;  yes,  Sacramento  is  a  warm  city  and 
those  shades  were  made  for  her.  She  does  not  get  the 
cool  breezes  that  prevail  in  San  Francisco.  Neither  does 
she  get  the  storms  that  other  cities  get  on  the  Pacific 
coast. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FROM  SACRAMENTO  TO  RENO,  NEVADA. 

On  leaving  Sacramento,  it  was  my  intention  to  follow 
the  Central  Pacific  railroad  to  Ogden,  so  that  should  any 
thing  of  a  serious  nature   happen   to  me,  I  should  have 
ready  access  to  the  railroad. 
• 

I  was  up  early  on  the  morning  of  the  7th  and  made 
ready  to  continue  my  journey.  Several  times  I  left  rny 
camping  ground  on  pretense  of  leaving  and  left  the  calf, 
so  as  to  get  the  cow  used  to  the  absence  of  her  calf.  By 
so  doing,  on  my  last  departure  the  cow  would  not  miss 
her  calf  so  badly.  When  all  preparations  were  ready  I 
started  and  travelled  until  I  came  to  the  bridge  that  cros 
ses  the  American  river,  which  is  about  a  mile  from  the 
city.  Here  I  stopped  and  looking  around  I  found  my 
cow  missing,  she  having  broken  her  fastening  to  the 
wagon  and  had  probably  returned  back  to  her  calf.  I 
was  sure  of  this,  so  retraced  my  steps  to  the  camp  I  had 
so  recently  left.  On  my  arrival  I  found  the  calf  had  been 
taken  away,  nor  did  I  see  the  cow.  I  secured  my  horse 
to  the  tree  and  returned  back  in  search  of  the  cow.  I 
called  "Bessie,"  but  no  answer.  Then  the  horse  would 
neigh ;  very  soon  I  heard  the  answer  from  the  cow,  the 
horse  answered  back  and  then  the  cow  came  running  down 
the  road,  making  for  the  lot  where  she  had  left  her  calf 
in  the  tall  grass.  There  was  no  calf.  Oh,  how  I  felt  for 


62  ROCKLIN. 


the  cow,  and  how  must  she  have  felt.  I  took  the  horse 
from  the  carriage  and  turned  her  loose,  when  she  immedi 
ately  went  to  the  cow.  Reader,  I  verily  believe  that  the 
horse  understood  the  matter,  as  well  as  the  cow.  I  con 
cluded  to  stop  here  and  have  my  breakfast  and  then  try 
to  make  a  start  once  more.  I  gave  my  cattle  some  grain 
and  made  a  dish  of  coffee  which  I  drank,  but  I  could  not 
eat  anything.  When  all  had  been  eaten  up,  I  again  made 
ready  to  start  on  my  journey  afresh,  and  travelled  over 
the  same  road  to  the  bridge.  This  bridge  is  made  of  very 
heavy  timber  and  some  day  its  great  weight  will  carry  it 
down  in  one  of  the  freshets.  As  I  leave  the  city  I  take 
the  road  that  puts  the  railroad  on  my  right.  On  crossing 
the  bridge  I  enter  on  a  fine  and  extensive  valley ;  on  my 
right  was  a  vast  plain.  In  front,  a  long  distance  a-head, 
was  the  Sierra  mountains  ;  to  my  left  are  the  mining  hiJJs 
of  California.  I  am  now  travelling  in  the  Eastern  valley. 
On  my  right  and  left  are  many  trails,  no  doubt  leading  to 
many  ranches.  There  is  no  main  road  ;  when  you  come 
to  a  trail,  there  is  not  anything  to  tell  you  the  way  to  this 
or  that  town.  Knowing  that  the  railroad  was  on  my 
right,  I  could  take  the  right  trail  every  time.  When  the 
trail  took  me  across  the  railroad,  then  I  would  bear  to  the 
left.  About  one  o'clock  I  came  to  a  ranche  ;  here  I  stop 
ped,  giving  my  cattle  grain  and  water  and  eating  a  lunch 
myself.  About  half-past  two  I  went  on  and  came  to  a 
creek,  I  drove  down  into  it  and  stopped  for  a  short  time, 
the  horse  and  the  cow  enjoyed  it  very  much,  on  account 
of  the  day  being  very  hot.  I  travelled  until  near  six 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  when  I  came  to  the  village  of 
Rocklin.  Here  I  was  permitted  to  turn  my  cattle  into  a 
field  of  wild  oats,  which  gave  a  satisfactory  pasturage  for 
them.  I  remarked  to  the  owner  of  the  field,  that  I  should 
leave  early  in  the  morning  and  desired  to  pay  him  for  my 
cattle's  supper  then.  "I  shall  not  charge  you  a  dime," 
he  replied.  "You  are  welcome,  stranger."  I  thanked  him. 


CLIPPER  GAP.  63 


On  the  morning  of  the  8th  I  left  Rocklin.  It  was  a 
very  fine  morning,  bat  extremely  hot ;  I  passed  through 
the  town  of  Auburn  and  reached  Clipper  Gap,  where  I 
rested.  Just  before  entering  Auburn  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  witnessing  a  scene  that  I  had  often  heard  off,  but 
never  before  had  a  chance  to  see.  Coming  down  the 
mountain,  I  saw  three  men  on  horseback,  driving  a  herd 
of  cattle  ;  they  were  on  a  dead  run,  and  were  driven  into 
a  corral — opposite  to  which  I  then  stood.  In  this  herd 
were  two  wild  bulls,  which  the  men  had  made  many  at 
tempts  to  lasso,  but  up  to  this  time  had  failed.  This 
corral  was  about  eight  rods  square,  with  a  large  rock  in 
the  centre.  The  herd  was  driven  into  the  corral  followed 
by  the  men,  on  a  keen  run,  who  at  every  chance  threw 
their  lassos  at  the  bulls.  I  was  an  onlooker,  watching 
the  mano3uvre  with  the  lassos,  as  they  scampered  around 
the  carrol  several  times  without  success.  One  of  the  men 
rode  up  to  me  and  said:  " Stranger,  you  are  in  great 
danger,  standing  there,  as  the  herd  is  liable  to  go  through 
the  corral  and  come  for.}'ou."  I  at  once  started  on  and 
went  some  distance  with  my  cattle  from  the  corral.  After 
securing  them,  I  returned  to  see  the  fun.  After  many 
attempts  they  at  last  succeeded  in  capturing  one  of  the 
bulls.  As  soon  as  the  bull  was  thrown,  the  cattle  were 
driven  out  of  the  corral.  The  bull  commenced  to  bellow 
and  kept  it  up  for  some  time.  The  cattle  returned  back 
and  commenced  battering  the  corral  down.  The  bull  was 
still  lying  on  the  ground ;  they  took  a  stick  of  timber, 
about  seven  feet  long  and  four  inches  thick  and  fastened 
it  to  the  bull's  head,  in  front.  I  asked  why  they  did  that, 
and  the  answer  was,  "That  timber  is  to  prevent  the  bull 
from  going  through  the  corral.  Now  we  will  give  him  a 
chance  to  get  up  and  show  himself."  All  this  time  the 
bull  kept  up  a  great  bellowing.  "What  is  your  next 
operation?"  I  asked.  "Our  next  operation  will  be  to  cut 
his  throat  after  he  gets  cooled  off."  "This  is  something 


64  AUBURN. 


new  to  me,  I  never  saw  the  like  before,"  I  remarked.  I 
left  the  carrol  and  reached  Auburn,  as  it  was  called  in 
1848,  and  now  known  as  West  Auburn.  There  is  also 
another  village  situated  on  the  railroad  and  called  East 
Auburn.  It  is  a  place  of  considerable  enterprise,  has 
handsome  modern  buildings,  finished  and  in  course  of 
erection.  Between  the  two  villages  are  good  roads  and 
some  fine  residences ;  none  such  have  I  seen  on  my 
journe}',  so  far.  I  passed  through  until  I  came  to  a  fine 
patch  of  grass,  where  I  stopped  for  the  night,  allowing 
my  cattle  to  roam  for  their  supper ;  after  giving  them 
grain  I  spread  my  blankets  and  retired  for  the  night. 

I  arose  early  on  the  morning  of  the  9th,  turned  my 
cattle  loose  so  as  they  could  get  their  breakfast  of  the 
grass,  and  while  they  were  feeding,  I  went  up  to  a  house 
a  little  ways  off  to  see  if  I  could  make  some  coffee,  but  I 
found  no  one  around  and  returned  back.  I  had  not  been 
back  long  when  a  man  came  out  of  the  house  down  to 
where  I  was.  We  passed  the  compliments  of  the  day. 
He  went  up  to  my  carriage  and  looked  into  it,  I  watched 
him  but  said  not  a  word,  but  was  thinking.  "Stranger,'' 
said  I,  "Can  I  assist  you  in  looking  into  my  wagon?" 
"I  have  a  peach  orchard  over  there,  and  thought  you 
might  have  found  it  and  filled  your  wagon  ;  but  it  seems 
I  sold  myself  this  time,"  he  answered.  "Stranger,  I 
came  here  last  night,  saw  this  grass  and  concluded  to  stop 
for  the  night.  I  am  travelling  and  came  down  from 
Eureka,  going  East,"  I  said.  "How  far  East?"  he 
questioned.  "To  the  Atlantic ;  I  started  from  the  Pacific 
and  intend  to-  reach  the  Atlantic  ocean,  or  Massachusetts," 
I  said.  "Excuse  me,  stranger,  for  being  so  impertinent. 
Go  up  to  the  house  and  get  some  breakfast  with  me,  you 
will  be  welcome,"  he  said.  I  went  to  breakfast  with  the 
stranger.  On  returning  to  my  camp  my  host  came  down 
.to  the  orchard  and  stopped  ;  as  I  was  about  to  move  on 


COLFAX  STATION.  65 


he  called  out,  "Stop,  stranger,  I  will  be  there  soon  with  a 
basket  of  peaches."  He  was  not  long  before  he  came 
along  with  a  strong  half  bushel  of  fine  peaches.  "Here, 
friend  stranger,  take  them  for  my  insulting  you ;  I  was 
mistaken  for  once.  If  you  come  this  way  again  I  will  fill 
your  wagon,"  he  said.  "Thank  you,  it  is  doubtful  if 
ever  I  pass  this  way  again,  good  morning,"  I  replied. 
"Good  morning,  success  to  you,"  was  the  reply  as  I  left 
him.  In  order  to  reach  Gold-run,  I  passed  by  several 
stations — Applegate,  N.  E.  Mills,  Lander  and  Colfax 
stations.  Colfax  station  is  a  first-class  station,  and  a  fine 
town  for  this  part  of  the  world.  A  hand  railroad  comes 
in  here  from  Grass  Valley  and  Nevado  city.  Here  I 
had  an  interview  with  the  postmaster  and  others  in  regard 
to  getting  through  the  mountain  passes.  I  was  told  that 
it  was  impossible  to  get  over  with  my  wagon.  The}'  ad 
vised  me  to  go  to  Grass  Valley,  then  take  the  old  Marys- 
vine  and  Virginia  city  turnpike^overllenness  Pass,  coming 
out  at  Reno.  I  did  not  know  what  to  do  ;  keep  on,  go 
back  or  around  as  advised.  I  thought,  perhaps,  I  could 
get  through  where  others  might  think  it  impossible  to  do 
so.  I  further  reasoned,  that  I  had  already  accomplished 
what  others  would  not  attempt.  Well,  here  I  am,  is  it  to 
go  on  or  go  back,  I  can't  stay  here  long,  it  won't  do.  I 
concluded  to  press  on  and  did  so,  reaching  Gold-run  all 
right.  Here,  I  again  made  inquiries  as  to  the  possibility 
of  going  over  the  mountains,  or  some  other  way  of  reach 
ing  Reno,  telling  them  that  so  far  I  had  followed  the  rail 
road.  "Stranger,  when  you  were  at  Clipper  Gap,  you 
should  have  gone  on  to  Emigrant  Gap  ;  there  they  would 
tell  you  whether  you  could  get  over  the  mountains  or  not. 
It  is  very  doubtful  if  you  could  with  your  wagon,  the 
snow  is  so  deep  in  many  places  where  you  would  be 
obliged  to  travel  with  your  carriage.  Last  week,  a 
party  made  the  attempt,  but  could  not  get  through  and 
were  obliged  to  return,  and  go  the  way  you  had  better  go. 


66  GOLD -RUN. 


Stranger,  you  had  better  return  to  Colfax,  from  there  to 
Grass  Valley,  aid  take  the  Hermess  trail  to  Verdi.  "Mr. 
Teamster,  where  can  I  get  grass  for  my  cattle,  I 
would  like  to  stop  here  to-night.  My  cow  has  recently 
come  in,  I  would  like  to  sell  her  milk  being  short  of 
money,"  I  remarked.  "Stranger,  where  are  you  from 
and  where  going,  perhaps  I  can  assist  you  a  little  ?"  I 
answered,  "I  left  Eureka,  Humboldt  county,  California, 
the  first  day  of  June,  for  the  East."  "Stranger,  are  you 
insane  ;  such  an  idea,  travelling  across  the  continent  with 
a  horse  and  carriage  and  a  cow.  Across  the  continent, 
you  must  be  insane.  Come  along  with  your  cattle,  which 
do  you  prefer,  hay  or  grass,  you  can  have  either  if  you 
wish.  I  have  some  tip-top  hay,  try  some,  if  they  won't 
cat  that  we  will  turn  them  out  to  grass,"  said  the  teamster. 
I  gave  them  hay  and  they  ate  it  right  greedily,  being  very 
hungry.  "Now,  stranger,  come  with  me  and  we  will  try 
some  hay  too.  You  going  to  Massachusetts  ;  what  a  man 
you  are.  Well,  stranger,  when  you  get  there,  drop  me  a 
line,  will  you?"  I  toid  him  I  would.  "Come  in,  stranger, 
we  will  take  something  on  this  occasion,  what  shall  it  be?" 
"Mr.  Teamster,  what  have  3Tou,  sir?"  I  queried.  "I 
have  some  good  California  brandy  and  wine,  and  also 
some  good,  old  bourbon  whisky,  made  down  East  some 
where,"  he  said.  "Friend,  I  will  iry  some  of  }rour  Cali 
fornia  brandy."  I  knew  nothing  about  the  brandy,  I  took 
the  decanter  and  a  small  tumbler,  poured  out  about  two 
teaspoonfuls  and  drank  it.  "I  thought  you  were  insane, 
now  I  am  quite  sure  you  are,  stranger."  "Well,  now, 
what  makes  you  think  so  ?"  I  asked.  "Your  taking  such 
a  heavy  drink,  stranger."  "It  was  enough  to  test  it,  that 
was  all  I  wished,  merely  to  test  it.  Now  I  will  taste  your 
wine."  I  took  the  decanter,  pouring  the  tumbler  about 
half  full,  putting  it  to  my  lips  and  tasting  it.  It  was 
good,  I  filled  the  tumbler  and  drank  it  all,  filling  again, 
drank  all  of  it  and  filled  again  several  times  until  the 


GOLD-RUN.  67 

decanter  was  emptied.  "There,  stranger,  I  thought  you 
was  insane,  but  now  have  changed  my  mind,  I  will  risk 
you  on  your  journey  East,  don't  3rou  forget  it.  Well, 
stranger,  our  supper  is  about  ready,  after  partaking  of  it 
I  can  tell  whether  you  are  good  for  a  long  journey  or 
not."  After  supper  I  asked  the  man  for  a  pail  to  milk  in. 
Said  he,  "We  will  go  down  and  see  if  the  cattle  like 
the  hay."  We  found  that  they  had  eaten  it  up,  so  gave 
them  more.  I  milked  the  cow  and  when  through  had 
filled  the  pail  to  the  brim.  "Stranger,  you  have  a  good 
cow,  tip-top  ;  too  good  to  lose  on  your  journey.  I  will 
buy  her  from  you  and  will  give  a  good  price  for  her.  She 
is  worth  one  hundred  dollars  in  gold  ;  stranger,  what  do  you 
say  will  you  sell  her  for  those  figures?"  "I  can't  sell  her 
to-night ;  I  know  you  offer  large  figures  for  her,  but  I  pre 
fer  her  milk  and  company  rather  than  the  gold." 

I  rose  early  on  the  morning  of  the  10th,  fed  the  cattle 
and  got  ready  for  an  early  start.  Went  to  the  house  of 
the  teamster  and  asked  for  a  pail  in  which  to  milk  the 
cow,  after  milking  I  gave  it  to  him  sa}Ting,  "You  are  en 
titled  to  it  for  your  kindness  to  me.  It  is  the  best  I  can 
do,  I  am  short  of  money,  having  been  obliged  to  pay  out 
much  more  than  I  expected."  "Friend  traveller,  how 
much  money  have  you  ?"  I  took  out  my  portemonnaie  and 
counted  the  money  I  had,  and  found  that  there  were  just 
twenty  dollars  and  twenty-eight  cents,  which  must  last 
me  until  I  got  to  Ogden.  "Your  cow  will  support  you  on 
your  way  ;  after  3rou  leave  Reno  you  can  get  fifty  cents  a 
gallon  for  your  milk  and  when  you  get  to  the  cars  you 
can  get  double  that  amount  for  it,"  said  the  teamster. 
"Friend,  you  talk  as  you  think  and  I  think  as  you  do,  and 
the  cow  will  almost  support  us  on  our  way  ;  I  will  do  the 
best  to  get  her  East  and  think  I  shall  succeed."  "Stran 
ger,  breakfast  is  ready,  come  in  and  get  some  hot  coffee  ; 
will  you  take  something  before  you  eat?"  " No,  thank 


GRASS  VALLEY. 


you ;  coffee  will  do  me  more  good  than  wine."  It  is 
about  six  o'clock  and  I  am  ready  to  retrace  my  steps  back 
to  Colfax.  I  bade  the  teamster  good-bye  and  thanked  him 
for  his  kindness  and  interest  in  me  and  started  on  my 
day's  journey.  Returning,  my  horse  travelled  much 
faster  than  usual,  which  troubled  my  cow  to  keep  up  with 
her.  "We  reached  Colfax  at  about  ten  o'clock,  having 
come  a  distance  of  eleven  and  a  half  miles  in  four  hours. 
We  rested  until  one  o'clock  and  then  took  the  road  to 
Grass  Valley.  This  road  was  a  good  one  but  very  hard. 
The  material  of  which  they  are  composed  is  about  the 
color  of  bricks  and  about  as  hard.  On  my  right  and  left 
millions  of  yards  of  dirt  have  been  handled  by  the  gold 
diggers.  This  st}'le  of  mining  is  called  surface  mining. 
About  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  came  to  a  fine 
creek,  about  two  rods  across  ;  the  water  about  a  foot  and 
a  half  deep,  with  a  bottom  as  red  as  burnt  brick.  As  I 
sat  in  my  carriage,  mid-way  of  the  creek,  a  short  distance 
on  my  left,  I  spied  a  fine  plat  of  grass.  My  first  thought 
was  to  stop  here  over  night ;  my  second,  that  it  was  yet 
too  early  to  do  so,  and  thirdly,  it  was  a  good  chance  for 
my  cattle  to  partake  of  a  good  feed  of  grass  and  the  rest 
was  essential  to  the  cow,  so  I  crossed  the  creek  and  went 
into  camp  for  the  night.  Turning  the  animals  loose,  I 
gathered  some  fuel  and  made  a  fire,  made  and  ate  my 
supper,  after  which  I  spread  out  my  blankets  and  went  to 
rest  myself. 

On  the  morning  of  the  llth  I  was  up  before  da}Tlight, 
being  very  restless,  having  omitted  to  wind  up  my  watch, 
which  had  run  down  ;  I  thought,  however,  it  must  be  near 
morning.  I  gave  the  cattle  liberty  to  graze  among  the 
grass  ;  made  a  fire,  boiled  me  some  eggs  and  coffee  and 
ate  a  hearty  breakfast.  It  was  a  good  early  meal,  you 
bet.  By  this  time  day  was  beginning  to  break.  My  cow 
I  milked  twice  a  day,  getting  my  can  full  at  each  milking. 


GRASS  VALLEY.  69 


I  am  fond  of  milk,  but  it  does  not  agree  with  me  so  I  sell 
it  when  I  can,  when  I  cannot,  I  give  it  or  throw  it  away. 
This  I  have  done  very  many  times.  It  is  about  four  a. 
m.,  when  I  start  on  this  day's  tramp,  and  I  will  make  the 
next  town  at  about  seven  o'clock.  I  travel  around  the 
hills,  bluffs  and  mountains.  My  road  is  good  but  very 
crooked,  the  road-bed  ver}r  hard  ;  so  hard  that  the  rains 
do  not  penetrate,  make  gullies  or  washouts.  I  am  in 
sight  of  the  town,  the  sun  is  up  about  one  hour.  It  must 
be  nearly  six  o'clock,  a  little  later  I  am  in  the  town  and 
making  my  way  to  a  pump  at  which  I  stopped  to  water 
my  cattle.  Leaving  them,  I  went  around  the  town  until 
I  came  to  a  house  with  the  sign  "Hotel."  I  did  not  like 
the  looks  of  it  so  went  on  and  inquired  for  a  first-class 
hotel.  I  was  told  to  keep  on  down  this  street,  turn  to 
my  first  right,  go  on,  turn  to  my  left  and  keep  on  and  I  will 
come  to  the  best  hotel  in  town.  I  went  as  directed,  and 
on  reaching  the  hotel  inquired  for  the  proprietor.  A  lady 
came  in  answer.  "Madam,  I  inquired  for  the  proprietor,* 
are  you  the  proprietor?"  "I  am,  sir,-what  can  I  do  for 
you?"  "I  am  travelling  with  a  horse,  carriage  and  cow  ; 
she  is  a  fine  looking  cow  and  fresh  in  milk.  She  has  not 
been  milked  this  morning  and  I  would  like  to  exchange  the 
milk  for  something  to  eat."  "Where  is  }'our  cow/ 1 
would  like  to  look  at  her?"  said  she.  "Just  around  the 
hotel,  will  }7ou  step  there  or  shall  I  bring  her  here?"  I 
asked.  "I  will  step  around  with  }'ou,"  said  the  landlady. 
She  went  with  me  and  saw  the  cow.  "My  dear  sir,  what 
a  fine  looking  cow  !  Where  have  you  and  that  cow  come 
from?"  said  the  landlady.  "I  have  come  from  Eureka, 
Humboldt  county,"  I  answered.  "I  know  that  place  very 
well ;  have  been  there.  Have  you  come  from  there  with 
that  cow?"  asked  the  landlady.  I  replied  in  the  affirmative. 
She  commanded  me  to  take  the  horse  and  cow  to  the  barn 
and  give  them  what  hay  and  grain  they  needed,  and  in 
vited  me  in  to  breakfast  as  it  was  waiting.  She  seated 


70  GRASS  VALLEY. 


me  at  table  and  said:  "We  have  beefsteak,  pork  steak, 
sausage  and  boiled  eggs,  with  tea  and  coffee."  I  took 
some  beef  and  pork  steak  with  fried  potatoes.  As  I  was 
eating  she  questioned  me.  "You  said  that  you  came  from 
Eureka  city  ;  which  way  did  you  come?"  "I  came  over 
land,  down  through  Humboldt  and  Mendocino  counties  to 
Cloverdale ;  from  there  to  San  Francisco,  from  there  to 
San  Jose,  back  through  Livermore  pass  to  Stockton,  Sac 
ramento  ;  from  there  following  the  Central  Pacific  railroad 
to  Gold-Run,  back  to  Colfax  and  from  there  to  this 
place."  "Why,  stranger,  has  that  cow  come  all  that  dis 
tance.  Where  are  you  going  to  ?"  said  the  lady.  "You 
see  I  started  from  the  Pacific  and  am  going  to  the  Atlan 
tic  Ocean."  Having  answered  many  questions,  I  left  the 
table  and  went  to  feed  and  milk  the  cow.  Having  done 
so  I  carried  it  in,  together  with  the  last  night's  milking, 
which  she  tested  and  pronounced  good,  and  I  gave  it  to 
her.  "How  long  do  you  intend  to  st&y  here?"  she  asked. 
"I  would  like  to  stay  to-day  and  to-morrow;  the  cow 
needs  rest  and  I  don't  care  to  crowd  her  along  too  fast  as 
she  is  not  strong."  "Will  you  sell  me  the  cow;  I  will 
give  j'ou  a  good  price?"  said  the  lady.  "How  much  is  a 
good  price?"  I  asked.  "You  have  got  me  now,"  she  an 
swered.  "Madam,  I  do  not  want  to  sell  her,  it  will  take 
more  than  five  of  those  twenties  to  buy  her ;  in  fact,  I 
don't  care  to  sell  her.  I  may  be  obliged  to  do  so  before 
I  can  get  through  my  journey."  "How  long  have  you 
been  in  the  State  of  California?"  she  asked.  "A  little 
more  than  two  years."  "Where  did  you  come  from, 
what  State?"  "From  Massachusetts."  "I  am  from  the 
State  of  New  York,  you  are  from  Massachusetts  and  are 
returning  home,  it  seems,"  said  the  lady.  "I  am,  I  prefer 
the  East  to  the  West  every  time."  "We  are  strangers  to 
each  other  ;  now,  sir,  I  wish  to  say  a  few  words  with  good 
and  pure  motives.  They  are  these  :  I  think  you  will  be 
unable  to  get  your  cattle  East ;  you  will  lose  your  horse 


GRAPS  VALLEY.  71 


or  cow,  or  both.  They  will  be  taken  from  you  ;  being 
alone,  you  can't  help  yourself;  two  men  can  take  from 
you  all  you  have  in  spite  of  your  resistance,  and  should 
3'ou  resist  your  life  will  be  the  cost.  I  have  heard  and 
seen  so  much  of  this  kind,  that  I  feel  anxious  for  you. 
For  instance,  you.  have  a  fine  looking  horse,  you  meet  two 
men  on  horseback,  they  stop,  saying,  'Hello,  friend,  do 
you  want  to  trade  horses?'  'No,  I  do  not,'  and  you  start 
on.  'But  stop,  hold  on,  I  want  that  horse,  you  can  take 
mine,'  he  says.  Now,  suppose  you  come  in  contact  with 
two  such  men,  what  would  you  do?"  said  the  landlady. 
"I  will  tell  you  what  I  would  do  in  such  a  case  ;  before  I 
would  trade  horses  in  that  way  I  would  talk  to  them,  and 
would  say,  strangers,  here  I  am  three  thousand  miles 
away  from  home,  nvyself,  horse,  cow  and  little  dog.  I 
have  a  tip-top  horse,  one  that  I  thought  so  much  of  as  to 
bring  her  from  Massachusetts  to  California.  I  do  not 
like  California^  and  am  now  returning  back  to  my  home. 
To  accomplish  this  it  will  require  nerve  and  some  consid 
erable  time.  I  have  it  and  the  horse  has  it,*  she  will  take 
me  through,  when  no  other  will.  Now,  gentlemen,  please 
consider  the  matter  a  little  and  under  these  circumstances 
will  you  insist  on  my  trading  horses  with  }'ou  ;  I  believe 
you  will  not?"  I  answered.  "Stranger,  that  is  all  very 
well,  but  I  think  }rour  preaching  would  do  no  good  with 
that  class  of  heroes.  I  sincerely  hope  you  will  succeed 
in  your  undertaking ;  make  yourself  at  home  as  long  as 
you  stay  and  take  good  care  of  your  cattle.  Give  them 
all  they  can  eat ;  I  wish  you  would  sell  me  the  cow.  If 
you  should  lose  her  }TOU  will  remember  my  offer,"  said 
the  landlady.  "I  will  remember  you  whether  I  lose  the 
cow  or  not."  "Will  }TOU  excuse  me  if  I  ask  your  name?" 
said  the  lady.  "Yes,  indeed  I  will.  My  name  is  John 
son,  Warren  B.,  of  Webster,  Mass."  She  invited  me 
in  to  dinner  but  I  declined,  having  breakfasted  so  late  I 
was  not  hungry.  When  evening  came  I  milked  the  cow 


72  GRASS  VALLEY. 


and  carried  the  milk  to  the  landlady,  when  she  seeing  the 
large  quantity  said,  "I  do  not  blame  you  for  not  selling 
the  cow,  what  a  large  mess  of  good  milk  she  gives." 
She  invited  me  to  supper  and  I  sat  down  at  table  as  the 
bell  summoned  the  others  for  supper.  The  table  was 
soon  filled  with  visitors,  having  taken  my  seat  the  land 
lady  said  :  "Mr.  Johnson,  let  me  make  you  acquainted 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones  and  family,  of  San  Francisco." 
"Mr.  Johnson,  our  landlady  informs  me  that  you  are 
travelling  East,  and  came  down  from  the  north-western 
part  of  the  State.  Eureka  I  know  very  well ;  I  have  been 
there  many  times,  know  all  the  leading  men  of  the  town, 
such  as  Vance,  Carson,  Jones  and  many  others.  I  learn 
that  yo\i  are  going  East  with  a  horse  and  carriage,  lead 
ing  a  cow  ;  is  that  so,  Mr.  Johnson?"  "Yes,  sir  ;  it  is." 
"How  long  have  you  been  in  the  State,  Mr.  Johnson?" 
"Two  years  and  more."  "When  3*011  came  out,  how  did 
you  come,  Mr.  Johnson?"  "I  came  by  railroad."  "You 
will  find  a  vast  difference  in  the  time  of  travelling ;  3rou 
think  you  can  make  that  distance,  do  3Tou,  Mr.  Johnson?" 
"Yes,  sir ;  I  do,  and  know  that  it  is  going  to  take  a  long 
time  to  perform  it,  but  think  it  can  be  done."  "I  am  in 
clined  to  think  if  the  thing  is  possible,  you  are  the  man  to 
do  it ;  how  long  do  you  intend  to  stop  here,  Mr.  Johnson?" 
"I  will  stay  over  another  day  as  the  cow  needs  rest. 
While  in  Sacramento  the  cow  gave  birth  to  a  fine  calf  and 
I  left  there  too  soon.  She  was  not  as  strong  as  she 
should  have  been."  "Well,  Mr.  Johnson ,  I  hope  3Tou 
will  succeed,  should  3Tou  do  so,  we  shall  have  to  make  a 
President  of  3^ou  some  day."  When  we  were  through 
supper,  I  went  to  the  barn  and  fed  my  cattle,  made  up  a 
bed  beside  them  and  went  to  rest.  About  nine  o'clock 
the  lady  of  the  house  came  out  and  called,  "John,  John, 
where  is  Mr.  Johnson  ?"  "I  don't  know  who  3Tou  mean 
by  that  name,"  answered  John.  "Why,  the  man  with 
that  horse  and  cow,  his  name  is  Johnson,"  said  the  lady. 


GRASS  VALLEY.  73 


I  heard  them  and  answered,  when  the  lady  and  John  came 
to  where  I  was  lying.  "Are  you  here,  Mr.  Johnson  ?" 
she  queried.  "I  am,  and  have  retired  for  the  night." 
4 'Come  into  the  house  and  take  a  bed  ;  don't  lay  out  there 
when  you  can  have  a  bed  inside,"  said  the  lady.  I  told 
her  that  I  preferred  to  sleep  with  my  cattle,  that  being  my 
custom^  and  begged  her  to  excuse  me.  She  answered 
she  would,  but  it  did  not  seem  right  to  sleep  with  the 
cattle  as  there  were  plenty  of  beds  inside. 

On  the  morning  of  the  12th  I  was  up  early  as  usual,  I 
gave  my  companions  hay  and  water  and  went  back  to  bed 
again.  I  intended  to  stop  over  another  da}r,  therefore,  I 
would  make  it  a  day  of  rest.  About  six  in  the  morning 
they  were  stirring  in  the  house.  John  was  up  and  around 
feeding  the  horses.  He  came  where  I  was  lying,  sa}dng, 
"You  are  in  bed  yet,*  shall  I  feed  your  cattle  ?"  I  told  him 
they  had  been  fed,  but  he  might  give  them  some  hay  if 
they  bad  none  before  them.  John  said  the  landlady  had 
told  him  to  look  well  to  my  cattle  aud  let  them  have  all 
they  could  eat.  About  seven  o'clock  the  bell  for  break 
fast  rang,  I  thought  I  would  wait  and  take  the  second 
table  ;  the  lady  came  out,  asked  where  I  was  and  came  to 
me  saj^ing,  "Our  breakfast  is  ready,  come  in,  I  will  give 
you  a  fine  dish  of  coffee,  it  will  be  good  and  we  have 
some  fine  cream  taken  from  }~our  milk,"  said  the  landlady. 
I  went  and  sat  down  to  a  fine  breakfast ;  when  through,  I 
remarked  that  I  was  going  to  make  the  day  one  of  rest. 
"You  are  as  well  as  usual,  I  suppose,"  said  the  lady. 
"Yes,  I  am  as  well  as  usual,  but  we  all  need  rest ;  I  know 
that  the  cow  does."  I  returned  to  the  barn  to  my  cattle 
and  went  to  bed.  At  noon  the  bell  rang  for  dinner.  I 
went  in  and  said,  "Madam,  excuse  me  from  the  dinner 
table,  I  am  not  fit  to  appear  at  the  table."  "Mr  Johnson, 
we  know  you  are  travelling  and  furthermore,  will  be  more 
or  less  dirty ;  it  can't  be  otherwise,  but  we  will  excuse 


74  GRASS  VALLEY. 


you,"  she  said.  I  did  not  care  for  any  one  that  might  be 
at  the  table,  except  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones.  They  I  hoped 
would  be  late  for  dinner.  I  was  through  before  they  came 
in.  After  dinner  I  went  straight  to  the  barn,  fed  the 
cattle  and  went  to  bed.  About  four  o'clock  I  got  up,  ran 
out  ray  wagon  and  looked  it  over  to  see  if  it  needed  any 
repairing.  As  I  was  looking  it  over  the  landlady  came 
along  and  said,  "I  think  you  are  preparing  to  leave  us, 
are  you  not?"  "No,  ma'am ;  not  to-day,  but  think  it 
well  to  look  things  over  to  see  if  any  weak  places  can  be 
found  and  make  them  strong  when  yon  are  where  you  can. 
I  think  I  will  leave  you  in  the  morning.  I  am  giving  my 
cattle  a  good  rest,*  it  is  what  they  needed.  To-morrow 
about  five  o'clock  I  intend  to  leave  you."  About  six 
o'clock  I  milked  the  cow  and  took  the  milk  into  the 
house  for  the  landlady.  "Why,  Mr.  Johnson,  what  a 
large  mess  of  milk  you  have  taken  from  your  cow.  Ah, 
that  is  too  fine  a  beast  to  be  taken  from  you  when  you 
can't  help  3rourself,"  said  she.  "Madam,  please  keep 
track  of  me,  you  will  learn  my  whereabouts  through  the 
papers,  no  doubt,"  I  answered.  "Tea  is  ready,  you  need 
not  fear  about  your  looks,  if  you  only  behave  yourself." 
The  tea  bell  rang  and  I  took  my  seat  as  before.  After 
supper  I  returned  to  my  place  with  the  cattle  and  gave 
them  a  good  feed,  made  up  my  bed  and  retired  for  the 
night.  About  nine  o'clock  the  landlad}7,  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Jones,  called  on  me.  "It  is  rather  late  to  make 
calls,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  "but  our  landlady  tells  us  you  are 
going  to  leave  us  early  in  the  morning.  I  have  come  to 
give  a  good-bye  and  wish  you  success  with  it.  I  hope 
and  pray  that  you  will  make  a  success  of  your  journey." 
"Mr.  Jones  and  lady,  I  believe  I  have  your  sympathies 
and  thank  you  kindly.  Should  I  succeed  in  reaching 
home  in  Massachusetts,  I  should  like  to  meet  you  on  my 
arrival."  "You  will  not  leave  in  the  morning  until  you 
have  eaten  your  breakfast?"  asked  the  landlady.  "Thank 


GRASS     VALLEY.  75 


you,  but  I  expect  to  breakfast  in  Nevada  city.  It  is  my 
custom  to  start  early  in  the  morning,  and  I  can  thus  make 
a  day  long  or  short,  as  I  choose. 

On  the  morning  of  the  14th  I  was  up  earl}',  had  fed  my 
cattle  and  was  getting  ready  to  leave,  when  I  heard  a 
voice  say,  "Kate,  get  up,  Mr.  Johnson  is  leaving." 
I  knew  from  whom  the  command  came,  the  others  were 
already  around.  I  went  in  and  asked  Kate  for  a  pail  in 
which  to  milk  the  cow  before  I  left.  Having  milked,  I 
carried  it  to  the  kitchen  for  the  landlady.  "  Mr.  John 
son,"  said  she,  "you  are  doing  more  for  me  than  I  have 
for  you,  and  we  are  up  earlier  to  give  you  a  good  break 
fast  before  you  go ;  come  in  and  have  some  beefsteak, 
boiled  eggs,  fried  potatoes  and  coffee,  come  and  be 
seated."  I  accepted  the  pressing  offer  and  did  justice  to 
it.  After  eating  I  said  to  the  landlady,  "Madam,  I  re 
luctantly  leave  you,  and  thank  you  for  your  hospitality 
and  the  interest  manifested  in  my  behalf,  I  thank  you  and 
bid  you  a  long  good-bye."  "Mr.  Johnson,  if  I  have  said 
or  done  anything  that  has  made  your  stay  with  me  a 
pleasant  one,  I  am  glad.  You  are  cordially  welcome  to 
the  hospitality  given  you,  and  I  pray  that  you  may  suc 
cessfully  travel  your  long  journey;  good-bye."  "Good 
bye,"  said  two  voices  from  the  window  above.  "Good 
bye,"  I  answered  and  left. 

On  the  morning  of  the  14th  I  left  Grass  Valley  for 
Reno,  travelling  the  old  trail  known  as  Henness  Pass, 
which  passes  through  Nevada  city,  North  Bloomfield, 
Graniteville,  Jackson's  Ranche,  Webbers  Lake,  Sardin 
ian  Village  and  comes  out  on  the  old  turnpike,  by  Silver 
Peak  mountain  to  Reno.  About  six  o'clock  I  reached 
Nevada  city,  a  distance  of  four  miles.  I  passed  directly 
through  making  no  stop. 

Nevada  city  is  the  count}"  town  of  Nevada  county.     It 


76  NEVADA    CITY. 


is  not  a  large  town  ;  I  well  recollect  the  court  house, "it  is 
situated  on  a  high  bluff.  I  was  directed  to  take  the 
right-hand  road,  and  leave  the  court  house  to  my  left- 
After  ascending  a  hill,  I  turned  sharp  to  the  right  and 
went  on.  About  ten  o'clock  I  came  to  a  house  and  stop 
ped,  I  gave  my  cattle  water  and  grain  ;  while  eating,  a 
man  came  up  to  me,  who  after  passing  the  compliments 
of  the  day  remarked,  "You  seem  to  be  travelling.  You 
have  a  fine-looking  cow  there,  and  horse  also  ;  wrhere  are 
you  from?  Excuse  me  from  asking  that  question."  "I 
am  from  Eureka,"  I  answered.  "I  know  that  place  very 
well ;  that  is,  I  have  been  there  ;  it  is  a  great  place  for 
lumber.  You  say  that  you  have  come  from  there?"  "I 
have,"  I  said.  "I  think  you  know  something  about  the 
East  by  your  talk,  you  speak  as  I  did  when  I  was  at 
home;  where  is  your  home?"  "M}T  home  is  in  Massa 
chusetts."  "I  knew  as  soon  as  I  heard  you  speak  that 
you  was  a  yankee  ;  I  am  from  Connecticut,"  said  the  man. 
"Stranger,  how  long  have  you  been  out  here?"  I  asked. 
"I  came  to  this  State  in  1852,  and  was  in  the  mining 
business  for  several  years,  but  could  not  get  rich  at  it.  I 
have  a  mine  on  this  place,  but  it's  all  work  and  no  pay. 
Friend,  go  into  the  house,  my  wife  would  like  to  see  you, 
as  3Tou  are  from  Massachusetts."  We  went  into  the 
house  and  he  introduced  me  to  bis  wife,  saying,  "Wife, 
this  man  says  he  belongs  to  Massachusetts,  and  is  now 
on  his  way  there."  "Do  }*ou  belong  in  Massachusetts 
when  you  are  at  home?"  she  inquired.  "I  do,  when  at 
home,"  I  answered.  "How  came  you  out  here?"  "I 
had  heard  so  much  about  California  that  I  thought  I 
would  come  and  see  it."  "How  do  you  like  the  coun 
try?"  "Very  well ;  it  is  a  large  empire,  and  will  hold  all 
China."  "I  am  afraid  all  China  will  be  here  ;  but  what 
brought  you  out,  have  you  relatives  here?"  "I  have,* my 
family  are  all  in  the  State."  "You  are  going  back  East,' 
don't  you  like  this  State?''  "I  do  not  like  well  enough  to 


NEVADA    CITY.  77 


live  and  die  here,  but  still,  I  might  before  I  get  out  of 
the  State  ;  I  hope  not,  however.  What  part  of  Connecti 
cut  are  you  from?"  "We  came  from  New  London,"  she 
answered.  '-You  like  here,  do  you  not?''  "Yes,  we  like 
here  the  best  of  any  part  of  the  State,  and  have  lived 
many  years  at  this  place.  During  all  this  time  we  have 
intended  to  return  East,  but  have  now  given  it  up.  Do 
you  want  to  sell  the  cow?"  "No,  I  do  not."  "What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  her?"  "I  am  taking  her  along 
for  her  milk."  "Will  that  pay?"  I  was  asked.  "It  does 
pay ;  I  have  the  milk  and  her  company,  that  pays  well.  I 
must  go  on,  I  am  making  too  long  a  stop,  I  have  so  many 
miles  to  make  per  day."  "How  many  miles  a  day  do 
you  travel?"  "When  I  travel  ten  hours,  I  make  twenty- 
five  miles ;  when  but  eight  hours,  only  twenty  miles ;  in 
this  wa}T  I  know  the  number  of  miles."  "Stop  and  have 
some  dinner  with  us."  "Thank  you  ;  it  will  make  a  small 
day's  journey,  I  dare  not  travel  in  the  night  it  is  so  hilly, 
I  have  no  brake  on  my  carriage.  When  I  have  a  hill  to 
descend,  I  block  the  wheels  with  a  rope."  "You  have 
one  hill  to  go  dewn,  about  six  miles  from  here,  that  will 
make  you  shake.  You  have  got  to  get  down  into  a 
canyon  ;  don't  miss  tying  both  wheels,  should  your  har 
ness  break  you  would  go  where  we  don't  know ;  going 
down  is  worse  than  coming  up."  "Our  dinner  is  ready,  it 
is  earty,  but  some  hot  coffee  will  do  you  good,"  said  the 
wife.  I  sat  down  and  ate  with  these  good  people  of  Con 
necticut.  It  was  eleven  o'clock  when  good-bye  was  said 
on  both  sides.  About  three  in  the  afternoon  I  met  the 
stage,  with  six  horses  ;  it  was  a  strong  double-brake  Con 
cord  coach.  The  driver  stopped  and  said,  "Stranger, 
chain  your  wheels  before  you  go  down  the  mountain,  and 
be  careful,  you  are  a  stranger  to  these  parts,  I  think." 
"I  am,  sir."  In  descending  the  hill  to  the  first  turn,  I 
did  not  chain  my  wheels  ;  at  the  turn  I  chained  both  and 
continued  down  to  the  bridge.  I  paid  my  toll  and  went 


78  NORTH  BLOOMFIELD. 


on,  up  the  opposite  side  of  the  canyon,  which  has  but  one 
turn.  A  faint  description  of  this  canyon  is  about  as  fol 
lows  :  From  the  water  at  the  bottom,  at  the  bridge,  to 
the  summit  of  the  mountain,  is  twelve  hundred  and  sixty- 
two  feet*  In  descending,  }rou  have  to  make  four  turns. 
This  elevation  is  inside  of  one  mile  of  travel ;  from  the 
first  turn  to  the  second,  is  about  one-third  of  a  mile ; 
from  the  second  to  the  third,  about  one-quarter  of  a  mile  ; 
from  the  third  to  the  fourth,  is  nearly  a  half  mile.  In 
travelling  this  canyon  the  road  is  wide  and  good ;  two 
teams  can  pass  at  any  point.  When  you  have  made  the 
descension,  and  stand  on  the  bridge  looking  east,  to  a 
stranger,  the  sight  is  most  wonderful.  My  toll  for  cross 
ing  the  bridge  was  thirty  cents,  for  horse,  carriage  and 
cow.  In  ascending,  after  leaving  the  bridge,  you  have 
but  one  turn  and  this  is  to  the  left.  I  think  this  part  is 
the  most  dangerous.  The  road  is  much  travelled  as  there 
are  many  mines  in  the  vicinity.  This  county  is  noted 
for  its  extensive  mines.  I  have  seen  sixteen  horses  at 
tached  to  one  wagon.  To  this  wagon  three  others  were 
attached.  These  are  eastern  built  wagons,  made  of  the 
best  of  timber  and  have  double  brakes.  All  the  large 
teams  have  iron  shoes  made  expressly  for  travelling  these 
canyons.  Even  the  stages  are  provided  with  them  ;  they 
dare  not  depend  on  the  brakes.  You  will  remember  the 
stage  driver  cautioned  me  not  to  go  down  the  canyon 
without  chaining  my. wheels.  He  knew  I  was  a  stranger 
and  it  was  thoughtful  of  him  in  giving  me  the  warning ;  I 
shall  ever  remember  him  for  his  kindness,  and  should  he 
by  chance  ever  get  this  book,  he  will  remember  me  by  my 
cow.  About  six  o'clock  I  reached  North  Bloomfield. 
Just  beyond  the  hotel,  to  the  left,  I  pitched  my  camp  by 
permission  of  the  landlord  and  gave  my  cattle  water  and 
hay.  There  was  no  grass  for  "Bessie."  It  is  hard,  but 
cannot  be  helped — grass  one  day,  hay  next,  does  not  give 
good  satisfaction  to  the  cow. 


NORTH  BLOOMFIELD.  79 


North  Bloomfield  is  situated  on  a  high  elevation.  It  is 
not  much  of  a  town  for  business  or  population  ;  it  is  a 
stop-over  place  for  the  teamsters,  and  about  mid-way 
from  Grass  Valley  to  Graniteville.  The  hotel  is  about 
sixty  by  fifty  feet,  two  stories  high  and  fronts  the  east. 
Its  proprietor  is  a  gentleman  about  sixty-five  years  old- 
In  front  of  the  building  is  a  store,  saloon  and  one  other 
building.  I  think  there  is  also  a  blacksmith's  'shop, 
which  constitutes  the  town.  Standing  in  front  of  the 
hotel,  looking  east  and  south,  you  can  see  nothing  but 
hills,  bluffs  and  mountains.  To  my  left,  in  full  view,  are 
the  Sierra  mountains  ;  to  my  right  are  numerous  mining 
districts ;  in  fact,  they  lay  all  around.  There  is  an 
immense  amount  of  freight  brought  here  from  around  the 
country,  which  requires  a  good  road,  and  they  have  them. 
But  the  way  they  transport  merchandise  is  a  surprise. 
Sixteen  horses  harnessed  to  one  wagon  and  three  other 
wagons  attached,  making  a  long  train.  To  me,  this  was 
something  new,  but  I  found  it  a  common  mode  of  trans 
portation. 

The  morning  of  the  15th  found  me  up  early,  making 
ready  for  my  day's  travel.  I  went  to  the  hotel  and  found 
only  the  lady  of  the  house  up  ;  I  asked  for  a  pail  in  which 
to  milk,  promising  her  the  milk.  I  gave  it  to  her,  saying 
she  was  welcome  to  it,  on  which  she  said,  "Stranger, 
please  sit  down  and  I  will  broil  you  a  bit  of  steak."  In 
about  five  minutes  she  brought  in  steak,  potatoes,  hot  bis 
cuit  and  coffee.  This  I  did  not  expect,  but  did  ample 
justice  to  the  repast  and  thanked  her  for  the  same. 
I  left  on  my  journey  about  half-past  five  o'clock  ;  on  leav 
ing  this  place  I  took  the  road  to  my  right,  by  so  doing  I 
saved  about  four  miles  of  travel,  and  came  into  the  same 
highway.  The  road  to  my  left  would  have  taken  me  to  a 
large  mining  town  ;  at  half-past  eleven  I  came  to  the  main 
road.  Here  was  a  small  pond,  of  which  my  cattle  drank 


80  GRANITEVILLE. 


heartily,  I  gave  them  grain  and  had  a  lunch  myself;  I 
rested  a  little  over  an  hour  and  at  one  o'clock  resumed 
my  journey.  The  road  we  are  now  travelling  is  tip-top, 
during  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  I  crossed  several  bridges 
over  small  rivers.  In  crossing  one,  off  to  my  right,  I  no 
ticed  one  stream  rushing  along  with  great  power.  Here  I 
met  a  four-horse  team  and  asked  the  driver  how  far  it  was 
to  Graniteville.  He  answered,  "Not  quite  three  miles." 
"Where  does  this  water  come  from  and  where  does  it 
go?"  I  asked.  "It  comes  a  great  distance,  some  twenty- 
five  miles,  and  goes  on  below  North  Bloomfield.  Where 
are  you  from?"  "I  am  from  Grass  Valley."  "You 
came  through  the  canyon,  did  you?"  "I  did."  "This 
water  goes  to  South  Eureka  through  the  canyon,  and  on 
until  it  is  used  up.  This  is  a  great  water  for  hydraulic 
mining,  one  of  the  greatest  in  this  State."  "I  thought 
hydraulic  mining  was  not  allowed  in  this  State."  "It  is  not 
in  some  sections.  Near  the  American  and  Sacramento 
rivers  no  dirt  is  allowed  to  get  into  those  rivers,  within 
so  man}7  miles  of  Sacramento  city  ;  it  has  spoiled  naviga 
tion  on  those  rivers."  About  six  o'clock  I  reached 
Graniteville,  I  stopped  opposite  the  hotel  and  inquired 
for  the  proprietor.  "I  am  the  man  that  stops  here  ;  what 
can  I  do  for  you?"  "I  am  travelling  East,  just  as  I  am, 
horse,  cow,  dog  and  myself,  I  would  like  to  go  into  camp 
near  here  and  would  like  hay  for  my  cattle.  I  have  grain 
and  a  lunch-basket  which  contains  my  own  grub."  "I 
can  accommodate  you  with  hay,  I  suppose  3rou  have 
plenty  of  gold."  "I  am  not  cold,"  I  remarked.  "I  said 
gold,  you  understand.  That  cow  is  a  fine  one,  I  see  she 
has  a  noble  bag;  but  where  in  h — 11  have  you  come 
from,  that's  what  I  want  to  know?"  "I  started  three 
hundred  miles  north  of  the  city  of  San  Francisco,  Eureka, 
came  down  to  the  city  and  from  there  here."  "Where 
are  you  going  to  haul  up,  I  would  like  to  know  that?" 
"I  don't  like  to  tell  the  whole  of  it."  "Why  not?"  "Be- 


GRANITE  VILLE.  81 


cause  you  will  think  that  I  have  a  lot  of  gold  to  carry  me 
that  distance.  Now  show  me  a  good  place  to  camp  with 
my  cattle  to-night,  give  them  some  good  hay  and  I  will 
milk  the  cow  to  pay  for  the  hay  ;  will  you  do  it?"  "Yes, 
I  will,  and  better  than  that  by  you ;  come  on  with  your 
cattle  and  follow  me.  I  will  give  you  a  good  camping 
place."  I  followed  him,  when  coming  to  a  lot  he  said  : 
"How  do  you  like  this  place  for  sleeping  to-night.'' 
"First  best.  Lend  me  a  pail  in  which  to  milk."  He 
found  me  a  pail  and  I  milked  the  cow  and  handed  him  the 
pail  with  its  contents.  "Come  to  the  house  and  get  your 
pay  for  this,"  he  said.  I  went  in  and  took  a  seat  on  be 
ing  told  to  do  so.  "Wife,  what  do  you  think  of  this  from 
a  cow  that  has  travelled  most  a  thousand  miles,  eh?" 
"That  is  good,  where  have  you  come  from?"  asked  the 
wife.  I  told  her.  "Get  this  man  a  supper,  he  is  worthy 
of  it ;  I  told  him  to  come  in  and  get  his  pay  for  the  milk. 
Now  pay,  and  well  too,  don't  be  stingy.  Take  a  seat." 
I  sat  down  to  a  good  supper  and  enjo}~ed  it  much.  After 
supper  I  went  to  look  at  my  cattle  and  found  them  all 
right.  I  returned  to  the  hotel  and  inquired  for  the  Post 
Office,  and  on  being  directed  went  thereto.  I  accosted 
the  postmaster,  saying,  "Do  }TOU  know  a  man  b}7"  the 
name  of  Sherwood,  a  miner,  who  owns  his  own  mine,  if  I 
mistake  not?"  "I  do,  sir."  "Where  does  he  live?" 
"He  lives  about  three  miles  west  of  this  place,  down  in 
the  canyon,  on  the  road  to  North  Bloomfield.  Follow  the 
road  about  a  mile  and  }'ou  will  come  to  a  small  creek.  A 
few  rods  this  side  the  creek,  on  your  right,  you  will  find  a 
trail  follow  this  trail  to  the  creek,  on  crossing  the  creek 
you  will  find  yourself  in  the  canyon  ;  continue  along  this 
trail  and  you  will  come  to  some  tall  grass,  go  on  and  soon 
you  will  reach  his  cabin.  For  a  stranger,  this  is  the  sim 
plest  and  easiest  way  to  the  canyon.  There  is  a  trail 
much  nearer,  but  a  stranger  would  be  troubled  to  keep 
the  right  one,  as  there  are  more  than  one,"  said  the  post- 


82  GRANITE  VILLE. 


master.  "I  belong  in  Massachusetts  and  am  on  my  way 
East.  Before  leaving  home  a  lady  called  on  me  and  said, 
"Johnson,  I  have  a  brother  in  California,  by  the  name  of 
Sherwood,  he  came  to  this  State  before  my  recollection  ;  I 
have  never  seen  him,  but  have  corresponded  with  him 
ever  since  he  left  home.  His  address  is  Granite ville,  Ne 
vada  county,  Cal.'  " 

On  the  morning  of  the  16th  I  was  up  as  usual,  feeding 
the  cattle,  milking  the  cow,  greasing  the  wagon,  doing 
this  and  that,  looking  here  and  there,  and  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  Graniteville  was  a  smart,  livel}7,  business 
town.  It  has  a  hotel,  two  stores,  livery  stable,  two  sa 
loons,  two  blacksmith  shops,  a  market  and  man}r  houses. 
When  the  right  time  came  I  carried  in  the  milk,  present 
ing  it  to  the  lady.  She  looked  at  it  and  said,  "You  must 
have  a  good  cow  that  gave  such  a  quantity,  and  good  at 
that.  Our  breakfast  will  soon  be  ready,  come  in  and  take 
breakfast  with  us  ;  make  yourself  at  home  as  long  as  you 
are  here."  The  bell  rang,  I  went  in  and  the  lady  gave 
me  a  seat  at  the  table  and  was  n^  waiter.  I  remarked  to 
her  that  I  was  going  west  about  three  miles,  to  the  can}Ton 
in  search  of  a  man  named  Sherwood,  and  asked  would  my 
outfit  be  safe  with  them.  "I  will  keep  a  lookout  myself, 
I  think  the}^  will  not  be  disturbed  ;  how  long  would  you 
be  gone?"  queried  the  lady.  "I  hope  to  return  by  noon, 
and  think  I  will."  I  started  for  the  canyon,  taking  the 
road  for  the  creek  and  finding  the  trail  as  directed,  cross 
ing  the  creek  and  on  towards  the  cabin.  Going  up  to  the 
cabin  door  I  knocked  and  listened,  but  did  not  hear  any 
thing  ;  knocked  again,  listened  and  heard  a  noise  inside. 
I  gave  a  louder  knock,  when  a  voice  answered,  "Who  is 
there?"  "No  one  who  will  harm  you,"  I  answered, 
"I  want  to  see  Mr.  Sherwood,  is  he  not  at  home?"  "He 
is  not,  he  is  up  at  the  mines."  "Where  is  the  mine?" 
"Up  in  the  canyon."  "My  home  is  in  the  far  East  and  I 


GRANITE  VILLE.  83 


am  on  my  way  back  to  Webster,  Mass.  I  have  come  a 
long  distance  to  see  Mr.  Sherwood,  and  don't  want  to  go 
away  without  seeing  him.  I  have  a  message  from  his 
sister,  whom  he  never  saw,  that  lives  in  the  town  I  come 
from.  Now  dare  you  open  the  door?"  "Yes,  when  I 
hear  the  name  of  Webster."  The  person  came  and 
opened  the  door  and  said,  "You  from  Webster?"  "lam, 
and  know  those  whom  neither  you  nor  3'our  husband  ever 
saw.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  B ,  by  me  send  their  most  sin 
cere  love  to  you  and  yours  ;  this  is  why  I  was  anxious  to 
see  you."  She  sounded  a  horn,  and  soon  after  a  young 
man  came  in,  to  whom  she  said  :  "Go  up  the  canyon  and 
tell  your  father  a  man  wishes  to  see  him."  It  was  not 
long  before  a  man  came  to  the  cabin,  when  the  woman 
said,  "This  man  came  to  the  door  and  knocked  three 
times  before  I  dared  to  open  it.  Had  he  not  said  he  was 
from  Webster,  Mass. ,  and  had  a  message  from  Mr.  and 

Mrs.  B ,  I  should  not  have   dared   to   let   him   in.'» 

"You  are  from  Webster,  Mass?"      "I  am,  sir."      "You 

know  my  brother  and  sister,  B ?"     "I  do."     "When 

did  you  leave  Massachusetts?"  "In  April,  1880." 
"How  long  have  you  been  in  California  ?"  "Two  years, 
I  arrived  at  Eureka  on  the  28th  of  May,  1880,  and  have 
been  here  ever  since  that  time."  "You  are  on  your  way 
back  to  that  State  ?"  "I  am."  "I  think  you  do  not  like 
California  by  returning  so  soon* is  that  so?"  "I  think 
this,  that  there  are  those  who  are  responsible  for  the  de 
ception  that  has  been  sent  abroad  in  regard  to  California. 
So  much  has  been  said  on  paper  that  brought  out  thous 
ands  who  are  not  able  to  get  back,  who  would  if  they 
could.  I  have  heard  many  say  that  much.  Oh,  such  a 
climate,  so  warm  and  pleasant  and  so  beautiful.  I  will 
admit  that  the  months  of  December,  January  and  Febru 
ary,  to  Eastern  people  are  most  agreeable,  that  is,  in  re 
gard  to  heat  and  cold.  But  in  April  and  the  summer 
months,  till  December,  everything  is  dried  up,  except 


84  GRANITEVILLE. 


what  irrigation  has  kept  green.  If  you  are  located  on 
the  river  valleys  you  are  all  right,  but  these  are  scarce. 
I  have  seen  the  sands  blow  like  our  eastern  snows.  I 
prefer  snow  to  sand  every  time,  when  the  wind  blows.  No 
rain  is  expected  until  the  month  of  December.  In  the 
northern  sections  you  may  get  some  rain  in  November, 
but  seldom.  After  the  first  ram  things  change  y  when  the 
second  rain  comes,  should  it  prove  a  good  substantial  one, 
say,  so  many  inches,  you  put  in  your  seeds  and  in  order 
to  get  back  the  value  of  your  seed  and  labor,  you  must 
have  so  much  rain,  or  so  many  inches  of  rain-fall  in  order 
to  warrant  a  crop.  Now  during  the  months  of  December 
and  January,  these  two  months,  the  rains  come.  The 
best  months  are  the  first  four.  In  April,  things  begin  to 
dry  up ;  May  is  dry,  June  is  very  dry,  in  July  you  are 
trying  to  get  your  sheep  to  the  mountains.  Can  wait 
no  longer,  and  you  have  to  be  smart  to  get  them  there  or 
they  will  perish  on  the  way.  It  is  not  yet  August  and 
don't  expect  rain  for  several  months.  August,  Septem 
ber,  October,  November ;  four  months,  all  dried  up. 
Think  of  it ;  ten  months  out  of  twelve,  no  rain.  You  get 
up  in  the  morning,  say  five  o'clock,  the  sun  is  just  up,  not 
a.cloud  to  be  seen.  The  day  advances  ;  nine  o'clock,  hot ; 
twelve  at  noon,  very  hot,  not  a  cloud  to  be  seen.  No,  no 
rain  to-day — no  showers  to  lay  the  dust — all  dried  up.  I 
prefer  living  where  it  is  cold,  warm,  hot,  with  showers 
occasionally,  to  lying  down  in  the  hot  burning  sands,  to 
bring  out  the  rich  colors  of  the  shrubbery  and  make 
nature  grand  and  sublime.  A  smart  thunder-storm  that 
will  burn  up  the  nitrogen  and  gives  us  in  place  a  healthy 
oxygen, "that  is  what  I  admire." 

Graniteville  I  left  on  the  morning  of  the  1 7th  and  trav 
elled  to  Jackson's  Ranche  that  day,  distance,  twenty-five 
miles.  On  this  morning  I  arose  early  as  usual,  and  got 
ready  for  my  day's  journey,  having  had  a  short  rest  which 


GRA.NITEVILLE.  85 


had  done  myself  and  the  cattle  much  good,  all  of  us  being 
well  cared  for.  Before  leaving,  I  went  to  the  house  and 
called  out,  "Landlord,  get  up,  I  am  ready  to  leave  you." 
He  came  out  and  up  to  my  camp.  "Well,  friend,  are 
you  going  to  leave  us  this  morning?"  "Yes,  sir  ;  I  am 
now  ready  to  start,  give  me  a  pail  that  I  may  milk  the 
cow.  He  went  and  got  me  a  pail.  Having  milked,  I 
handed  the  pail  to  him  and  he  took  it  into  the  house,  sa}'- 
ing  to  his  wife,  "How  is  this  for  high,  good  ain't  it? 
This  man  is  going  right  off,  how  soon  before  he  can  have 
breakfast?"  "As  soon  as  I  can  broil  a  steak  ;  not  more 
than  ten  minutes,"  answered  the  landlady.  "How  much 
must  I  pay  you  for  your  kindness?"  I  asked.  "Kindness, 
what  have  we  done  that  we  should  charge  you  for?" 
said  the  landlord.  "You  have  fed  my  cattle  with  hay 
and  myself  with  good  steak.  I  have  given  you  in  return 
only  the  milk."  That  is  enough,  I  am  satisfied  if  you 
are ;  the  breakfast  is  ready,  sit  there,"  answered  the 
landlord.  I  seated  myself  at  the  table,  before  me  was  a 
good  breakfast  of  which  I  partook  heartity ;  after  break 
fast  I  prepared  to  make  a  start,  and  said  to  the  landlord, 
"Friend,  I  feel  gratified  to  you  and  your  lady  for  your 
hospitality,  you  have  shown  it  in  its  fulness."  "Stranger, 
when  I  first  set  my  eyes  on  you,  I  said  that  you  are  an 
honest,  old  man,  and  fully  qualified  to  travel  any  where 
among  men  that  are  civilized.  No  man  will  harm  you. 
As  you  leave  here  your  road  will  be  a  rough  and  hard  one 
for  about  seventy-five  miles,  which  will  be  through  a  wild 
mountainous  country.  You  will  have  a  chance  to  see 
some  wild  game,  and  big  ones  at  that ;  so  you  must  be 
ready  for  them.  What  kind  of  a  gun  have  j^ou,  shot  or 
rifle?"  "My  dear  sir,  I  have  no  firearms  whatever, 
neither  shot,  ball  or  revolver,  nothing  but  an  axe,  hatchet, 
knife  and  that  hay  fork  you  see  there  ;  those  are  the  only 
weapons  I  carry  and  no  others."  "Do  you  expect  to  get 
through  this  long  journey  without  fighting  something.  If 


86  JACKSON'S  RANCHE. 


you  do  you  will  be  the  first  man,  and  a  lucky  one  you  will 
be."  "Good  morning,"  I  answered.  "Good  morning,  I 
hope  you  will  get  along  all  right,  but  look  out  for  your 
self,*  you  are  getting  into  a  wild  country,  with  wild 
animals  on  every  side.  You  may  reach  Jackson's  Ranche 
to-day  if  you  have  luck  ;  make  it  if  you  can,  for  there 
you  will  be  safe."  We  bade  each  other  good-bye. 

It  was  six  o'clock  when  I  left  Graniteville ;  could  I 
have  taken  the  left  road  I  should  have  had  a  good  high 
way  to  travel,  but  being  obliged  to  travel  to  the  right,  I 
had  wild  mountainous  roads,  with  timber  in  abundance  on 
every  side.  On  my  right  I  hear  the  roar  of  a  waterfall. 
About  nine  o'clock  I  met  two  men  with  guns.  Passed 
the  compliments  of  the  day  with  them  and  said,  "Stran 
gers,  I  hear  the  roar  of  water  on  my  right,  what  does  it 
mean?"  "Soon  you  will  come  to  a  lake  or  pond;  the 
roar  is  from  the  water  taken  to  supply  the  canal  and  car 
ried  many  miles  for  mining  purposes,"  they  answered.  "I 
must  have  crossed  this  canal  in  coming  from  North 
Bloomfield  to  Graniteville,  did  I  not?"  "You  did."  I 
had  noticed  with  what  a  rush  the  water  ran  in  this  canal. 
"Strangers,  what  time  is  it?"  (I  carry  the  time,  but  al 
ways  ask  when  I  have  a  chance,  I  do  this  for  a  blind.) 
They  answered  about  ten  o'clock.  I  left  them  and  in  a 
little  while  came  to  the  lake  and  taking  the  left-hand  road 
followed  it  close  to  the  water.  A  large  amount  of  money 
has  been  expended  in  and  around  this  lake ;  the  road 
having  been  set  back  to  the  mountain-side.  I  was  in 
formed  that  twenty-five  years  ago,  this  lake  was  a  deep 
canyon,  with  a  small  creek  running  through  it.  On  the 
right,  looking  east,  is  a  heavy  mountain  with  snow  still 
on  its  summit ;  on  the  left  is  the  road.  It  is  said  that 
this  canyon  was  very  deep.  At  its  outlet  on  the  west,  it 
is  almost  surrounded  by  solid  rocks,  with  only  space  to 
let  the  water  pass  through.  The  mining  companies  have 


JACKSON'S  RANCHE.  87 


taken  in  the  situation  and  built  a  dam  to  store  the  waters. 
This  dam  makes  a  deep  lake,  in  some  places  nearly  three 
hundred  feet  deep,  and  covering  a  large  surface  of  land. 
About  half-past  eleven  I  came  to  a  nice  patch  of  grass, 
here  I  halted,  unharnessed  the  horse  and  let  her  and  the 
cow  loose  to  pick  a  feed  for  themselves.  1  gathered  some 
fuel  and  made  a  fire  and  got  hot  coffee  for  my  dinner. 
About  one  o'clock  we  moved  on  until  four,  when  coming 
to  another  grass  lot  I  made  another  stop  ;  our  rest  here 
was  short  but  sweet.  I  have  still  six  miles  to  travel  to 
reach  the  ranche.  Coming  to  a  creek  I  crossed  over  and 
a  short  distance  further  came  to  a  field  of  excellent 
clover  grass  and  was  tempted  to  stop  there  for  the  night, 
but  having  been  advised  to  get  to  Jackson's  Ranche 
pushed  on  towards  that  place.  In  a  little  while  I  came  to 
a  house,  from  which  two  men  issued  with  pails,  evidently 
for  milking.  I  called  out.  "Strangers,  is  this  Jackson's 
Ranche?"  "It  is,  sir."  "Can  I  camp  here  for  the  night. 
I  was  told  at  Granite ville  to  reach  Jackson's  Ranche,  and 
suppose  this  is  the  place,  as  I  have  seen  no  other  house." 
•'You  can  stop  anywhere  you  choose;  you  can  feed  on 
grass  or  hay,  either  will  not  cost  you  anything."  "After 
fording  the  creek  I  noticed  some  fine  grass ;  would  it 
have  been  safe  for  me  to  camp  there,  I  would  like  to,  as 
there  is  some  fine  feeding?  I  ask  this  because  at  Gran- 
iteville  I  was  told  that  there  was  large  game  both  sides  of 
the  creek  and  was  told  to  be  on  the  look-out."  "Well, 
stranger,  there  are  some  wild  game  on  this  road  ;  there 
is  not  enough  of  travel  to  make  them  afraid.  All  who 
have  guns,  should  they  see  any  game  will  blaze  at 
them,  hit  or  miss."  "Well,  I  will  try  my  cattle  on  hay, 
but  I  do  not  think  they  will  eat  it  as  they  have  had  grass, 
unless  they  are  very  hungry."  I  gave  them  some  hay  but 
they  refused  it,  so  I  returned  to  the  plat  near  the  creek 
and  camped.  I  turned  the  horse  loose  and  fastened  the 
cow  by  the  lariat  and  allowed  them  thus  to  eat  at  will.  I 


88  JACKSON'S  RANCHE. 


gathered  fuel  and  made  a  big  fire,  got  my  supper  and 
went  to  bed.  About  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  two  men 
and  a  boy  came  along  with  guns.  "Friend,  don't  be 
afraid  of  us,  we  have  come  to  see  how  you  are  getting 
along  and  always  carry  our  guns  with  us,  so  that  we  are 
ready  should  we  come  across  any  sjame.  This  is  a  great 
place  for  deer,  they  feed  near  here  at  all  times  of  the  day. 
There  being  but  little  travel  in  this  trail  they  are  very 
tame.  No  doubt,  should  we  go  down  to  the  creek,  but 
that  we  should  find  some  grazing."  "How  is  it  about  the 
wolf  and  wild  cat,  and  that  kind  of  game,  are  there  many 
of  them?"  "Well,  I  suppose  there  are  many  of  them. 
You  came  past  one  place  that  is  noted  for  that  kind  of 
game  ;  it  is  a  good  place  for  camping,  but  a  wild  spot  for 
all  kinds  of  game."  "Think  I  stopped  there  and  fed  my 
cattle  on  the  grass,  I  thought  that  was  a  good  place  for 
deer;  they  are  great  on  feeding."  "Will  you  go  up  to 
the  house  and  stay  over  night  with  us?"  "I  prefer  to 
stop  here,  if  it  is  safe  to  do  so."  "You  will  be  safe  here, 
but  more  so  at  the  house."  "If  I  remain  here  my  cattle 
will  be  fed  for  the  morning,  and  will  enable  me  to  make 
an  early  start,  so  I  will  stay  here."  "You  may  have  one 
of  our  guns  if  you  wish,  and  think  you  had  better  take 
one  of  them  ;  you.  can  stop  at  the  house  in  the  morning, 
leave  the  gun  and  take  breakfast  with  us."  "I  will, 
thank  you."  "Good  night,  you  had  better  keep  your 
camp  fire  burning,  it  will  keep  the  animals  away,  they 
will  not  come  very  near  you."  About  midnight  I  was 
awakened  by  a  loud  talking  that  did  not  come  from  any 
two-legged  animals,  there  appeared  to  be  many  of  them 
by  the  noise.  The  cow  was  lying  down  and  the  horse 
was  standing  near  her.  The  horse  left  the  cow  and  came 
up  to  me,  the  cow  could  not  come  as  she  was  fastened  by 
the  lariat.  I  arose  at  once,  renewed  my  fire  and  then 
went  and  drew  the  pinion  and  brought  the  cow  nearer  the 
camp,  my  dog  was  in  the  carnage,  so  that  we  all  were 


JACKSON'S  RANCHE.  89 


now  together,  ready  for  any  emergency.  Our  disturbers 
were  to  the  left  of  us,  and  were  evidently  quarreling 
among  themselves,  or  they  would  not  have  made  so  much 
noise.  I  put  the  horse  in  the  carriage  and  made  for  the 
ranche,  thinking  that  would  be  more  satisfactory  to  all  of 
us,  and  it  was,  "you  bet."  It  was  just  half-past  twelve 
as  I  fastened  my  horse  to  a  post ;  I  ma  le  up  iny  bed  again 
and  laid  down  but  not  to  sleep.  At  half-past  three 
o'clock  I  returned  to  the  creek  to  give  my  cattle  an  oppor 
tunity  again  at  the  grass,  and  on  my  arrival  found  a  herd 
of  deer  feeding  there  ;  they  left  as  soon  as  they  saw  me. 
As  it  was  breaking  day  I  was  surrounded  by  many 
coyottes,  who  were  sending  forth  their  melodies.  They 
were  not  very  near  us,  say  about  forty  rods  away.  I  am 
not  afraid  of  this  kind  of  game,  as  they  do  no  harm  but 
to  the  sheep.  At  five  o'clock  I  again  left  for  the  ranche, 
on  my  arrival  I  found  them  still  in  bed ;  and  called  out, 
"Friends,  if  you  want  me  to  breakfast  with  you,  for  my 
sake  get  up.  It  is  now  half-past  five  and  the  sun  is  up." 
"John,  get  up  and  make  some  good  strong  coffee."  It  did 
not  take  long  to  get  the  breakfast  ready  and  all  hands 
partaking  thereof.  I  related  to  them  my  experience  of 
the  night  and  my  disturbance,  sa}Mng  that  the  landlord  at 
the  hotel  told  me  that  I  should  find  plenty  of  game  and 
big  at  that,  and  as^ed  what  weapons  I  carried.  I  told  him 
I  had  neither  ball,  shot,  or  gun.  "Stranger,"  says  my 
present  host,  "have  you  no  firearms  with  you,  not  even  a 
revolver?"  -"Not  anything  of  the  kind,"  I  replied. 
"What  are  you  thinking  about,  travelling  in  this  wild  part 
of  California  without  a  weapon  of  any  kind.  No  one 
here  thinks  of  going  out  without  a  revolver  ;  here  you  are 
in  the  midst  of  a  wild  country,  without  anything  of  the 
kind,'  you  can  never  get  as  far  as  Reno,  if  you  do  I  would 
like  to  know  of  it."  "If  I  do  you  shall  be  informed  of 
the  fact ;  you  of  course,  read  the  papers?"  "I  do  when  I 
can  get  them."  '-Get  them  and  keep  track  of  me,"  I 


90  WEBBER'S  LAKE. 


said.  "I  will,  you  bet."  ''Stranger,  your  hospitality  to 
me  is  such  as  I  have  received  daily  on  my  journey.  It 
seems  as  if  people  could  not  do  too  much  for  me  ;  I  ap 
preciate  it,  but  I  must  leave  you  and  make  Webber's 
Lake  to-day,  how  is  the  road  thereto?"  "From  here  it  is 
a  much  better  road  than  from  Graniteville."  " Friends, 
good  morning."  uGood  morning,  I  hope  you  will  suc 
ceed  in  getting  through,  such  an  undertaking  is  not  to  be 
read  of  in  books  ;  success  to  you."  Thanking  them  I  left 
on  rny  journey. 

August  18th,  I  left  Jackson's  Ranche  for  Webber's 
Lake,  which  I  made  the  same  day,  travelling  a  distance 
of  twenty-five  miles.  Having  been  disturbed  in  my  rest 
I  did  not  feel  so  fresh  as  on  the  previous  days. 

Webber's  Lake. — In  reaching  this  place,  about  mid- way 
is  an  old  log  cabin,  built  of  handsome  timber,  the  logs  of 
which  it  is  composed  are  dove-tailed  at  the  corners,  mak 
ing  a  very  strong  and  durable  building.  When  the  stages 
formerly  ran  over  this  road  from  Virginia  city  to  Marys- 
ville,  before  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad  was  built,  this 
trail  was  a  good  road,  but  since  the  building  of  the  rail 
road  this,  as  well  as  many  another  good  road,  has  been 
neglected,  especially  that  part  running  through  the  Sar 
dinian  Valley,  a  distance  of  seventy  miles.  About  two 
miles  distant  from  this  log  cabin  is  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  which  rises  from  the  lake  to  a  height  of  two 
thousand  feet.  The  scenery  from  the  summit  is  lovely, 
in  fact  everything  around  was  beautiful,  while  on  my 
right  are  the  Sierras  covered  with  snow.  In  travelling 
along,  the  lake  is  on  my  right  going  east,  on  my  left  were 
many  buildings,  one  was  large,  and  evidently  an  hotel, 
situated  directly  in  front  of  the  lake.  The  road  passed 
between  the  lake  and  the  buildings  ;  from  the  hotel  to  the 
water  was  only  about  four  rods.  The  length  of  the  lake 


WEBBER'S  LAKE.  91 


is  one  mile  ;  the  width  about  a  half  mile,  many  boats  were 
on  the  shore.  On  my  arrival,  I  asked  for  "Dr.  Webber." 
A  tall  man,  about  seventy-five  years  of  age,  answered 
me,  saying,  uMy  name  is  Webber,  I  answer  to  Doctor 
Webber."  "I  stopped  at  a  hotel  about  four  miles  from 
Grass  Valley,  and  the  .proprietor  gave  me  this  note  to 
give  you  on  my  arrival,*  here  it  is."  The  doctor  read 
aloud : 

"This  traveller  called  at  my  hotel  and  said  that  he  was 
from  Eureka,  with  horse,  carriage  and  cow  going  East, 
to  Massachusetts.  I  told  him  to  follow  the  old  Fermis 
trail  to  Reno,  and  on  reaching  Webber's  Lake,  to  stop 
and  give  this  note  to  Doctor  Webber* 

From,         JOHN  CLARK." 

"Stranger,  walk  into  my  office;  sit  down.  You  are 
from  Eureka  and  going  East,  to  Massachusetts,  your  old 
home,  and  with  that  outfit;  it  will  take  some  grit."  "I 
am."  "Don't  you  like  California?"  "I  like  the  East 
much  better."  "How  long  have  you  been  in  the  State?" 
"About  two  years,  or  a  little  more."  "Have  you  been 
in  Eureka  all  that  time?"  "I  have,  sir."  "I  do  not 
wonder  that  you  do  not  like  that  part  of  California,  where 
the  sands  blow  like  the  snows  of  the  east.  No  wonder 
you  are  anxious  to  get  back  to  old  Massachusetts  ;  I  know 
all  about  this  State,  having  travelled  it  all  over.  I  think 
I  am  situated  here  the  best  of  any  one.  Look  at  my  sur 
roundings  ;  look  at  that  beautiful  sheet  of  water ;  look  at 
the  green  grass  ;  we  do  not  have  to  pump  water  on  our 
lands  to  keep  them  from  drying  up.  No,  not  a  bit  of  it. 
Look  on  3'onder  mountain  ;  see  those  white  caps,  they  are 
white  by  night  as  well  as  day  ;  they  are  white  from  the 
first  of  August  to  the  first  August  the  next  year." 
"Doctor,  you  have  here  a  delightful  situation,.!  would 
like  to  stop  with  you  over  night ;  here  is  good  grass  to 
which  my  cattle  will  testif}r,  I  shall  soon  be  where  there  is 
none  ;  am  I  not  right?"  "You  are  ;  when  you  get  into 
Nevada  you  will  often  think  of  me  ;  what  can  I  do  for 


92  WEBBER'S  LAKE. 


you?"  "I  would  like  to  picket  my  cattle  where  the  grass 
is  short  and  sweet,  not  where  you  intend  to  cut  for  ha}'. 
I  suppose  you  make  hay  of  that  tall  grass?"  "I  do  ;  yon 
der  is  a  good  white  clover  patch,  take  your  cattle  there, 
turn  them  loose  if  you  dare  do  so  ;  they  will  do  no  harm. 
Our  tea  will  soon  be  ready  and  come  in,  perhaps  you  will 
find  something  you  do  not  carry.  Do  not  refuse  when 
one  asks  you  ;  travelling  as  you  are,  accept  the  invitation, 
you  are  right  welcome."  I  went  to  see  that  my  cattle 
were  all  right  and  having  their  supper  and  returned  to  the 
hotel  for  m}T  own.  After  supper  I  got  a  pail  and  milked 
the  cow,  and  carried  it  to  the  doctor  saying,  "My  cow 
sends  this  pail  of  milk  to  you  in  return  for  the  grass  she 
has  and  is  now  devouring  ;  please  accept  it."  We  sat  in 
front  of  the  house  talking  on  every  subject,  when  two 
hacks  with  four  ladies  and  gentlemen  drove  up  from 
Reno,  who  were  coming  to  make  a  visit  of  three  or  four 
days  at  this  pleasant  resort.  The  doctor  turned  to  his 
visitors  and  said,  "Gentlemen,  this  man  is  from  the  north 
western  part  of  the  State,  Eureka  city,  and  is  going  to 
Massachusetts  with  a  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog  ;  a  long 
journey."  "Yes,  a  very  long  journey  ;  do  }*ou  think  you 
can  make  it?"  "I  do."  "You  will  never  be  able  to  take 
that  cow  all  that  distance  ;  if  you  do,  3*011  will  stand  on 
the  top  ladder  of  fame."  "Sirs,  if  I  can  get  the  cow  shod 
with  iron  shoes,  I  shall  succeed  ;  but  if  not  I  am  afraid  I 
shall  not  succeed.  I  have  not  been  able  to  get  her  shod 
as  yet.  I  have  had  her  feet  seared  four  times  and  they 
are  getting  small."  "What  do  you  mean  by  getting 
her  feet  seared?"  "Take  a  flat  piece  of  hoop  iron,  heat 
it  red  hot,  then  take  up  the  foot  and  rub  the  red  hot  iron 
over  the  bottom  of  the  hoof;  that  is  the  way  the  Spani 
ards  shoe  their  cattle."  "Now,  friend,  I  will  tell  you 
where  you  will  get  your  cow  shod.  But  a  few  daj's 
ago,  when  passing  a  blacksmith's  shop  in  Reno,  I  saw  the 
blacksmith  shoeing  an  ox  ;  this  I  know,  for  I  saw  it  done. 


WEBBKR'S  LAKE.  93 


When  you  get  there  you  can  have  your  cow  shod  with 
iron  shoes."  "How  far  is  it  to  Reno?"  "It  is  about 
forty-five  miles."  "It  will  take  me  two  da}*s  to  travel 
thereto  ;  what  kind  of  a  road  is  it?"  "It  is  a  good  road. 
When  3Tou  get  to  the  four  corners,  take  your  left 
and  you  will  have  a  good  road  to  the  valley.  Do  not 
keep  straight  on  as  that  is  the  old  trail ;  when  you 
get  there  3*011  will  come  into  the  turnpike  that  leads  to 
Truckee,  as  you  strike  this  road  turn  sharp  to  }Tour  left." 
"Doctor,  are  }Tou  troubled  with  wild  game  at  night?" 
"There  are  some  around,  but  seldom  come  near  here.  If 
we  kept  sheep  we  should  have  them  around  continually  ; 
the  coyotte  and  welfare  terrors  for  sheep."  "How  is  the 
wild-cat?"  "The  wild-cat  is  the  smartest  animal  we  have  ; 
the}'  will  drive  the  wolf  away  every  time,  the}'  are  not  as 
heavy  but  very  quick  and  active  ;  I  have  seen  the  wolf 
and  cat  fight.  The  cat  will  jump  on  and  off  the  wolf  and 
the  wolf  does  not  care  to  be  scratched  to  pieces  by  the 
cat."  I  now  left  the  doctor,  went  to  camp  and  made 
ready  for  the  night,  securing  my  cattle  and  went  to  bed. 

Webber's  Lake  I  left  on  the  19th  and  travelled  twenty- 
eight  miles  to  Silver  Peak.  This  morning  I  got  up  early 
as  usual  and  made  ready  to  move  another  stage  on  my 
journey.  Having  had  a  good  night's  rest,  I  feel  tip-top 
and  am  anxious  to  reach  Reno  to-morrow.  There  I  hope 
to  be  able  to  shoe  my  cow,  if  not,  I  do  not  know  when  it 
can  be  done.  It  is  just  half-past  five  and  all  ready  to 
start.  I  went  to  the  hotel  to  see  if  the  doctor  was  up  and 
told  him  I  was  ready  to  start  but  he  would  not  let  me  till 
I  had  had  some  breakfast.  "I  do  not  wish  to  offend  you, 
but  am  very  anxious  to  cover  as  many  miles  to-day  as 
possible,"  I  said.  "You  stop  and  get  a  good  breakfast 
and  you  will  make  more  miles,"  he  replied.  I  reluctantly 
stopped  and  requested  a  pail  and  went  and  milked  my  cow 
and  handed  him  the  milking.  "You  have  a  fine  cow,  she 


94  SILVER  PEAK. 


will  more  than  pay  her  way,"  said  the  doctgr.  I  sat  down 
to  a  breakfast  of  beef  and  veal  steak,  boiled  eggs,  fried 
potatoes,  biscuit  and  hot  coffee,  which  I  thought  was  well 
worth  stopping  for,  and  turning  to  the  doctor  I  said, 
"Doctor,  I  have  been  well  paid  for  the  stopping,  good 
morning."  "I  knew  you  would  be  ;  good  morning.  I 
hope  you  will  make  a  success  of  your  undertaking."  It 
was  just  half-past  six  o'clock  as  I  left  the  hotel.  My  road 
was  a  good  one,  on  a  down  grade.  Travelling  a  little 
ways  I  came  to  where  four  roads  crossed  and  took  the  left- 
hand  road.  About  eleven  o'clock  I  came  to  a  ranche 
where  I  stopped,  giving  my  cattle  a  ration  of  water  and 
grain.  I  then  went  on  and  after  travelling  about  two 
miles  came  to  another  ranche,  where  I  again  halted  for  a 
short  rest.  Travelling  still  further,  I  came  to  a  valley 
and  passed  through  a  timber  lot  which  had  been  felled  and 
the  logs  were  scattered  in  the  road  and  all  around.  This 
timber  was  handsome,  not  large  but  a  good  size  for  use — 
say,  about  two  to  four  feet  in  diameter.  I  am  still  but  a 
short  distance  from  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad,  not  more 
than  two  miles.  It  was  with  great  difficulty  I  got  through 
the  timber  lot,  and  when  through  I  emerged  into  the  turn 
pike  for  Reno.  This  is  a  very  good  road,  I  have  had 
none  like  it  so  far  on  my  journe}'.  I  am  travelling  in  the 
rear  of  a  large  flock  of  sheep  and  can  not  get  by  them. 
On  my  left  is  a  deep  canyon,  and  on  my  right  is  a  high 
bluff  or  mountain.  I  asked  the  herdsman  where  they  in 
tended  to  camp  ?  He  said,  just  this  side  of  Silver  Peak, 
but  a  short  distance  further.  At  six  o'clock  we  came  to  a 
saw  mill.  At  the  left  of  this  mill  the  herdsman  turned  in 
and  drove  down  into  the  canyon.  I  was  informed  that 
there  was  good  feeding,  but  did  not  go  down  to  see.  I 
pitched  my  camp  opposite  the  mill  where  there  was  a  good 
feeding  of  wild  oats,  which  my  cattle  readily  devoured. 
They  were  the  first  wild  oats  on  which  they  had  fed.  I 
made  a  fire,  wood  being  around  in  abundance  ;  made  a  dish 


SILVER  PEAK.  95 


of  tea  and  ate  my  supper  and  laid  down  for  a  while. 
About  nine  o'clock  I  got  up  and  after  securing  the  cattle 
for  the  night  I  again  laid  down,  but  could  not  go  to  sleep, 
on  account  of  the  sheep  bleating  for  their  young,  there 
being  about  six  thousand  of  them  in  the  canyon.  About 
half-past  ten  o'clock  I  heard  the  report  of  a  gun,  then  an 
other,  and  another.  I  called  out,  "What  is  the  matter 
down  there?"  "Matter  enough,  the  wolves  are  after  our 
mutton,  the  canyon  is  full  of  them.  We  dare  not  set  our 
dogs  on  them  as  they  will  be  killed,  so  we  blaze  at  them." 
"Come  up  here  and  get  some  milk,  I  have  some  and  you 
can  have  all  you  wish."  The  man  was  soon  at  my  camp 
who  said,  "I  have  come  for  that  milk,  thinking  it  must 
be  worth  coming  after."  "But  what  have  you  to  carry  it 
in?"  "Oh,  the  d — 1.  I  did  not  think  to  bring  anything. 
Can't  I  take  the  can,  I  will  bring  it  back ;  what  is  it 
worth?"  "I  paid  a  dollar  for  it  in  Sacramento."  "Will 
you  sell  it,  I  will  give  what  it  cost  3^011  and  more  if  }rou 
say  so."  I  let  him  have  the  can  at  cost  and  he  gave  me  a 
dollar.  He  wished  to  pay  me  for  the  milk  also  but  I  de 
clined  to  take  it.  "What  is  the  matter  among  your 
sheep?"  I  asked.  "The  wolves  want  mutton  ;  they  were 
as  thick  as  rabbits  when  I  came  up,  I  could  hear  them  in 
the  brush  after  the  sheep  ;  they  can  smell  a  sheep  a  long 
way  off.  Our  sheep  are  hungr}^,  still  we  dare  not  let  them 
feed  at  nights  ;  they  must  wait  till  morning  and  then  the 
dogs  can  take  care  of  them,"  said  the  shepherd.  "In 
what  kind  of  a  place  are  your  sheep  to-night?"  "They 
are  in  a  kind  of  oblong  square,  and  there  are  six  thousand 
of  them  ;  they  will  cover  about  two  acres.  On  one  side 
we  have  three  camp  fires,  on  the  other  are  six  dogs  and 
four  men  with  guns."  "Do  you  fear  the  coyotte?"  "No, 
we  do  not,  we  set  our  dogs  on  them,  but  the  wolf  would 
kill  a  dog  mighty  quick.  When  the  wolves  show  them 
selves  we  quickly  blaze  at  them,  we  try  not  to  kill  but  to 
wound  them.  If  a  wolf  is  badly  wounded  we  are  not 


96  SILVER  PEAK. 


troubled  with  others  for  some  time."  "You  was  not 
afraid  to  come  for  the  milk?"  "I  should  not  have  dared 
to  come  had  I  not  had  this  lantern,  it  is  enough  to  keep 
any  wolf  away  from  me."  "Do  you  think  they  will  make 
an  attack  on  me?"  "They  will  not  trouble  you  as  long 
as  the  sheep  are  there,  if  they  were  not  around  they  might 
attack  your  cattle ;  but  you  need  not  fear."  Bang, 
bang,  bang,  went  three  guns.  "I  must  go  back,  there 
may  be  something  for  me  to  do  ;  they  may  have  a  strong 
army  and  if  they  attack  us  would  make  a  clean  sweep  of 
the  sheep.  Stranger,  you  have  been  passing  through  a 
wild  country ;  have  you  not  been  troubled  by  these  in- 
fernals  during  the  night,  if  not,  }TOU  are  remarkabty 
lucky?"  "At  Graniteville  I  was  told  that  I  was  entering 
a  wild  region  and  should  be  ready  to  meet  them.  Since 
then  I  have  been  on  the  look-out,  and  to-night  the  varmins 
are  plentiful  around  and  should  be  handled  with  firm 
ness." 

I  left  Silver  Peak  mountain  on  the  20th  and  reached 
Reno  that  day  ;  journeying  fourteen  miles.  It  was  about 
midnight  when  I  left  my  camp  ;  I  concluded  it  would  be 
safer  to  move  on  than  stay  there  with  all  those  wolves 
around  me.  I  filled  my  lantern  with  oil  and  moved  on  ; 
after  travelling  about  a  half  mile  I  found  that  I  had  a  big 
hill  to  descend,  it  was  very  dark  and  could  scarce  see  my 
way.  I  roped  my  wheels  and  descended  the  hill  with 
bated  breath,  not  knowing  what  might  happen  ;  I  could 
see  on  my  left  a  deep  can3ron,  the  road  was  apparently 
wide  and  good.  Having  made  the  descent  safely  I 
breathed  more  freely ;  on  going  some  further  distance  I 
c5me  to  a  house,  which  I  approached  and  knocking  at  the 
door  a  voice  answered,  "Who  is  there?"  "Get  up,  friend, 
I  would  like  to  ask  a  few  questions."  "Go  on,  I  can  hear 
you  without  coming  there,"  was  answered.  "I  won't 
harm  you/I  am  travelling  and  from  Eureka,  three  hun- 


VERDI.  97 


dred  miles  from  San  Francisco."  "You  from  Eureka?" 
4 'I  am,  sir."  "You  talk  as  I  used  to  do  at  home  ;  I  left 
Maine  for  Eureka,  in  1868.  I  am  a  Yankee  as  evidently 
you  are  by  your  talk?"  "You  are  right ;  I  am.  I  came 
by  way  of  Grass  Valley,  on  the  Henness  trail,  by  Webber's 
Lake.  When  I  reached  the  turnpike  I  was  in  the  rear  of 
a  herd  of  sheep  and  could  not  pass  them  and  was  obliged 
to  travel  in  their  rear  until  we  came  to  the  old  saw  mill  on 
the  hill  where  they  turn  into  the  canyon,  while  I  camped 
opposite  the  mill.  There  seems  to  be  any  quantity  of 
wild  animals  in  that  canyon ;  the  herdsmen  kept  firing 
away  all  the  first  part  of  the  night,  I  went  to  bed  but 
dared  not  sleep,  and  became  so  much  excited  that  I  broke 
camp  and  came  on  here,  running  my  chances  of  safely 
reaching  Reno  early  in  the  day.  How  is  the  road  thereto, 
is  it  safe  to  travel  at  night  and  is  there  much  timber  on 
the  road?"  "From  here  to  Reno  is  twelve  miles  and  the 
road  is  both  good  and  safe  either  night  or  day  ;  there  is 
no  timber  on  the  way."  "How  far  am  I  from  the  rail 
road?"  "Not  more  than  a  half  mile.  This  is  Verdi,  you 
will  not  pass  the  depot,  as  it  is  to  your  right  a  few  rods. 
Stranger,  you  have  been  passing  through  the  most  dan 
gerous  part  of  California  ;  no  part  being  so  dangerous  as 
the  last  hundred  miles  you  have  come  so  far  unharmed, 
and  so  far  you  are  a  very  lucky  man,  I  hope  you  will  suc 
ceed  as  well  on  your  longer  journe3r,  good  morning."  It 
is  two  a.  m.,  as  I  leave  this  house  and  travel  on  until  sun 
rise  when  I  came  in  sight  of  Reno.  At  six  o'clock  I  came 
to  a  good  grass  patch  where  I  stopped  for  my  companions 
to  get  a  nibble.  At  seven  I  journeyed  on  and  entered  the 
town  of  Reno  at  half-past  eight  o'clock,  passing  through 
and  halting  about  eighty  rods  west  of  the  town .  Having 
secured  my  cattle  I  went  in  search  of  a  blacksmith  to  shoe 
my  cow  ;  I  inquired  of  several  but  did  not  find  the  right 
one,  but  was  told  that  such  a  man  could  shoe  her ;  I  went 
there  and  inquired  for  the  proprietor,  of  whom  I  asked, 


98  RENO. 


4 'Can  you  shoe  a  cow  for  me  ;  I  am  travelling  East  with  a 
horse  and  carriage,  leading  a  cow.  I  have  travelled  about 
seven  hundred  miles  and  have  not  been  able  to  get  her 
iron  shoes  ;  I  have  had  her  feet  smeared  three  times  which 
have  worn  very  small."  "I  have  never  shod  a  cow, 
but  have  shod  a  great  many  oxen  and  think  I  can  shoe 
her."  "How  much  will  you  ask  me  to  put  iron  shoes  on 
her?"  "My  price  for  oxen  is  four  dollars  ;  if  you  and  I 
can  do  it,  I  will  charge  you  but  two  dollars."  "When  will 
jxm  shoe  her?"  "After  dinner  ;  where  is  she?"  "But  a 
short  distance  from  here."  "Lead  her  down  after  dinner 
and  I  will  see  what  we  can  do,"  said  the  blacksmith. 
About  one  o'clock  I  drove  down  to  the  shop  with  my 
horse,  carriage  and  cow.  I  had  not  said  a  word  to  any 
one  but  the  blacksmith,  but  on  my  arrival  there  were 
scores  of  people  to  see  the  cow  shod.  Many  were  the 
questions  levelled  at  me,  which  I  patiently  answered  with 
as  little  show  as  possible.  "Stranger,"  said  the  black 
smith,  "lead  your  cow  around  into  the  brake,  we  will  see 
what  can  be  done."  I  untied  the  cow  from  the  carriage 
and  led  her  around  the  shop  to  the  brake.  The  horse  was 
very  much  troubled  at  seeing  her  led  away,  but  on  coming 
in  sight  of  the  horse  she  was  all  right  again.  I  am  in  the 
habit  of  talking  to  my  cattle  and  think  they  understand 
much  more  than  we  give  them  credit  for.  "Come, 
Bessie,"  I  said,  "get  into  that  brake,  it  will  not  harm 
you."  I  went  into  the  brake  ahead  of  her  and  she  fol 
lowed  me  without  any  further  trouble.  A  strap  was  put 
under  her  belly  and  she  was  raised  from  her  feet ;  this  was 
more  than  she  would  stand,  so  I  asked  the  blacksmith  to 
let  her  down  again,  which  he  did.  I  then  went  to  my 
carriage  and  got  some  rope  ;  putting  a  rope  around  each 
hind-leg,  and  bringing  her  feet  back  under  her  rear  parts, 
I  took  up  her  forward  foot,  telling  the  blacksmith  to  make 
it  fast,  which  he  did.  She  tried  to  get  loose  but  could 
not ;  in  the  meantime,  I  had  taken  the  horse  out  of  the 


RENO.  99 


carriage  and  fastened  her  beside  the  cow,  telling  the 
blacksmith  to  make  a  good  job.  He  answered,  "That  he 
would  do  his  best,"  About  this  time  the  whole  town  had 
assembled  to  witness  the  shoeing ;  many  questions  were 
asked  and  answered  at  leisure.  The  blacksmith  had  com 
menced  nailing  on  the  shoes  ;  he  would  strike  on  the  nail, 
driving  it  in  about  one-third  of  its  length,  or  until  bend, 
ing,  then  drawing  it  out  and  taking  another,  drive  that  in 
further,  and  so  on,  until  the  whole  were  driven  and  the 
shoes  securely  put  on  ;  the  hardness  of  the  hoof  causing 
many  of  the  nails  to  bend.  Her  feet  having  been  seared 
three  times,  made  them  hard  and  flinty.  While  all  this 
was  being  clone,  "Bessie"  behaved  herself  bravely.  Two 
nails  were  driven  that  made  her  flinch ;  these  nails  were 
marked,  so  that  should  they  trouble  the  cow  they  could  be 
removed.  On  taking  her  from  the  brake  she  could  scarcely 
travel ;  we  got  her  back  into  the  brake  and  had  those  two 
nails  drawn  and  replaced  which  made  quite  a  difference. 
The  blacksmith  said  that  the  soreness  would  wear  awa}7. 
He  charged  me  not  to  take  the  shoes  off,  but  keep  them 
on  and  remain  here  for  a  few  days  until  she  could  travel 
again.  Should  I  take  them  off  I  should  be  in  a  very  bad 
fix.  Without  shoes,  I  could  not  get  her  along,  and  now 
they  are  on  good  ;  wait  until  she  can  travel.  It  may  be 
three  days,  perhaps  five  or  more,  but  be  contented  ;  I  am 
sure  you  will  be  the  gainer  by  so  doing.  Turning  to  the 
crowd  I  said:  "Gentlemen,  you  see  the  condition  in 
which  I  am  placed ;  being  obliged  to  stop  a  few  days, 
where  can  I  get  grass  for  my  cattle,  I  prefer  grass  to  hay 
as  they  have  been  fed  mostly  on  grass  during  my  jour 
ney?"  "Stranger,  I  have  grass  and  a  grass  cutter,  and 
you  may  have  all  }rour  cattle  can  eat  as  long  as  you  stay 
and  I  won't  charge  you  a  dime."  "Friend,  where  is  your 
grass?"  "One  house  this  side  of  where  you  stopped 
this  morning ;  I  will  show  you."  I  led  the  cow  by  the 
halter,  but  it  was  no  use,  she  could  scarce  walk,  and  she 


100  RENO. 


laid  down  ;  I  got  a  pail  of  cold  water  and  poured  it  upon 
her  hoofs  continuously  for  several  hours.  About  six 
o'clock,  I  took  my  horse  and  carriage  and  went  to  the 
man's  lot  for  grass,  but  had  not  been  there  very  long  be 
fore  the  cow  came  into  the  yard.  "Well,  Bessie,  you 
have  done  finely  ;  did  you  think  that  we  had  left  yon  ? 
No,  we  only  came  for  grass  for  you  and  you  shall  have 
some,"  I  said  to  the  cow.  I  gave  her  the  grass,  which 
she  ate  greedily  as  she  lay  down.  I  continued  to  pour 
cold  water  on  her  feet,  rubbing  her  ankles  and  legs  occa 
sionally.  The  whole  town  knew  where  I  was  and  in  what 
condition ;  many  came  to  see  me  and  learn  my  intentions. 
Ten  thousand  questions  were  asked  and  answered.  The 
time  had  arrived  for  milking,  her  bag  was  hard-full,  I  got 
a  pail  and  went  to  the  cow,  and  said  "Bessie,  you.  must 
be  milked,  then  you  will  feel  more  comfortable ;  get  up 
and  let  me  milk  you."  She  got  up  and  I  milked  her,  fill 
ing  the  pail  "Good,  Bessie  ;  you  have  done  well,  lay  down 
and  I  will  bathe  your  feet."  She  lay  down  and  I  bathed 
her  feet.  All  I  said  to  her  she  understood,  she  could  not 
talk  but  made  motions  that  I  understood.  I  carried  the 
milk  into  the  house  and  offered  it  to  the  lad}r ;  she  was  re 
luctant  to  take  it,  saying  that  she  did  not  know  what  to 
do  with  so  much  milk.  Just  then  the  gentleman  came  in 
and  the  wife  said,  "Frank,  come  here  ;  .here  is  the  milk 
that  this  man  traveller  has  brought  to  me  iu  return  for 
the  kindness  he  has  received  from  us."  "Stranger,"  he 
answered,  "it  is  about  time  for  the  express  train  from  the 
East,  it  will  be  here  in  about  ten  minutes,  take  this  pail 
of  milk  to  the  depot  and  when  the  train  arrives,  go  and 
sell  3Tour  milk.  Wife,  have  you  a  tin  dish  that  will  hold 
a  little  more  than  a  pint."  She  got  such  a  dish.  Taking 
the  cup  from  his  wife  he  continued,  saying  "This  cup  full 
is  worth  ten  cents,  even  change  every  time,  the  value  of  a 
dime.  It  is  now  ten  minutes  after  eight  o'clock,  I  will  go 
with  you  and  we  will  see  the  depot  master,  he  may  have  ob- 


RENO.  101 


jections,  if  so,  yon  can  sell  it  on  the  highway,  don't  stand 
on  the  platform  and  call  out  milk."  We  went  to  the  de 
pot  and  saw  the  depot  master,  my  friend  saying:  "Mr. 
Chamberlain,  this  man  is  from  Eureka,  Humboldt  county, 
on  his  way  East,  to  Massachusetts,  he  stopped  here  to  get 
his  cow  shod.  In  doing  this  the  shoes  are  put  on  so 
tight  she  can't  travel,  and  so  this  man  is  obliged  to  stop 
here  a  short  time.  The  cow  is  a  fine  one,  and  here  is  her 
milk.  I  told  him  to  bring  it  here  to  sell ;  will  you  allow 
him  to  do  so  on  the  trains?"  "How  long  do  you  intend 
to  stop  here?"  asked  the  depot  master.  "But  a  short 
time,  I  hope  to  be  able  to  travel  in  three  or  four  days  at 
the  longest,"  I  answered.  "It  is  strictly  against  our 
rules  to  allow  peddling  in  or  around  the  depots,  but  situ 
ated  as  you  are,  I  will  allow  you  to  sell  any  where  around 
the  depot."  When  the  train  arrived  I  went  aboard  the 
cars  and  sang  out,  "I  have  better  milk  than  any  of  you 
have  had  since  leaving  Omaha,  don't  take  my  word  for  it, 
but  try  it."  One  man  said,  "Bring  some  here,  pour  it 
into  this  cup."  I  filled  it,  he  tasted,  saw  it  was  good  and 
had  it  refilled.  Then  the  man  said,  "Ladies  and  gentle 
men,  it  is  the  best  milk  I  have  tasted  since  leaving  Mas 
sachusetts."  "Are  you  from  there?"  "I  am."  "So 
am  I  and  now  on  my  way  back ;  I  belong  in  Webster 
when  at  home.  This  milk  I  have  got  from  a  cow  that  I 
have  led  from  California  to  this  place,  more  than  seven 
hundred  miles  and  which  I  intend  to  take  to  Massachu 
setts,  I  may  fail,  but  intend  to  try."  "Stranger,  we  hope 
you  will  succeed,"  was  answered.  I  entered  the  cars 
with  two  gallons  of  milk  and  came  out  with  one  dollar 
and  thirty-five  cents  in  return.  I  went  back  to  my  camp 
and  commenced  to  bathe  the  cow's  feet.  About  half-past 
ten  I  went  to  bed  and  slept  till  about  midnight,  when  I 
awoke  and  gave  her  another  wetting  and  more  grass.  I 
went  back  to  bed  but  could  not  sleep,  so  soon  got  up 
again  ;  I  examined  the  cow's  feet  and  found  them  very  hot 


102  RENO. 


and  feverish,  so  I  bathed  them  most  of  the  remainder  of 
the  night. 

On  the  morning  of  the  21st  I  felt  very  anxious  about 
Bessie's  feet,  as  they  were  very  hot  and  feverish,  and 
thought  there  must  be  inflammation  or  the}7  would  not  be  so 
hot.  I  mowed  down  some  grass  and  gave  the  cow  a  large 
quantity,  throwing  water  on  It  so  that  it  would  be  cold 
for  her  to  stand  on.  This  morning,  there  were  two  trains 
from  the  west — an  emigrant  at  half-past  five  and  an  ex 
press  train  at  seven.  My  camp  is  but  a  short  distance 
from  the  railroad  track,  less  than  five  rods,  and  about 
thirty  rods  from  the  depot.  I  was  milking  at  half-past 
six,  when  the  emigrant  train  came  along,  due  here  at 
half-past  five.  Being  late,  it  had  to  stop  until  the  express 
had  passed,  due  at  seven  o'clock.  Many  of  the  passen 
gers  came  where  I  was  milking,  and  bought  the  fluid  as 
fast  as  I  got  it  from  the  cow  ;  this  time  I  did  not  have  to 
take  it  to  the  depot.  It  was  all  gone  before  the  other 
train  arrived.  I  got  ten  cents  a  cup,  a  little  more  than  a 
pint ;  for  this  milking  I  got  one  dollar  and  five  cents.  My 
milk  being  disposed  of,  my  breakfast  also,  and  the  cattle 
well  cared  for  I  went  into  the  town  and  called  on  the 
blacksmith  and  told  what  I  had  and  was  doing.  He  said 
I  was  doing  the  right  thing,  he  was  afraid  that  I  would 
take  off  the  shoes.  Yon  must  make  her  travel  and  get 
used  to  them,  she  would  soon  be  all  right.  About  twelve 
o'clock  I  went  back  to  my  camp  and  found  all  right  and 
gave  them  their  mid-day  meal.  At  three  o'clock  I  took 
the  cow  by  the  halter  leading  her  around  where  it  was 
soft,  that  she  might  walk  as  comfortable  as  possible.  I 
noticed  that  there  was  improvement  so  took  her  down 
town  to  the  blacksmith  and  said,  "How  is  this  for  high?'' 
"Ah,  friend  ;  I  see  you  understand  things,  keep  on  doing 
as  3rou  have  and  3*011  will  soon  leave  us.  I  have  adopted 
a  new  plan,  that  is,  while  the  cow  is  in  camp  she  stands 


RENO.  103 


on  grass  well  wet  with  cold  water,  this  softens  up  her 
hard  hoofs.  I  returned  to  my  camp  and  prepared  to  meet 
the  train  so  as  to  sell  my  milk.  I  sold  fourteen  cups 
which  brought  me  one  dollar  and  forty  cents.  The  three 
next  days  were  a  repetition  of  the  two  first.  The  incidents 
were,  the  meeting  of  the  trains,  selling  the  milk  and  the 
care  and  exercise  of  the  cow  ;  the  overhauling  of  my 
wagon  and  seeing  that  everything  was  ready  for  a  move. 
While  here,  the  people  were  kind  to  me.  I  wanted  the 
blacksmith  to  reset  my  wheels,  but  on  examination  he  ad 
vised  me  not  to  have  them  touched.  I  had  him  make  me 
several  bolts  as  my  whiffle-tree  and  transient-pin  were 
well  worn,  so  that  I  should  have  others  when  they  gave  out. 
While  I  was  here,  I  was  interviewed  by  the  local  reporter 
who  said,  "Stranger,  I  wish  to  ask  you  a  few  questions, 
if  you  have  no  objections?"  "I  have  no  objections  ;  go 
on,  sir,"  I  replied.  ''Where  are  you  from  with  this  out 
fit,  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog?"  asked  the  reporter. 
"I  am  from  Eureka  city,  Humboldt  county,  California." 
"About  how  many  miles  have  you  travelled?"  "About 
seven  hundred  and  fifty,  to  reach  this  place.  From 
Eureka  to  San  Francisco,  is  three  hundred  and  eighteen 
miles ;  from  San  Francisco  to  San  Jose,  is  forty-seven 
miles,  and  from  there  through  Stockton,  Sacramento,  Gold 
Run,  back  to  Colfax,  Grass  Valle3r,  Nevada  city,  Granite- 
ville,  Webber's  Lake  to  this  place."  "But  you  have  been 
nearly  three  months  in  getting  here,"  said  the  reporter. 
"Yes,  but  I  have  not  travelled  half  the  time,*I  have 
sta3*ed  over  more  days  than  I  have  travelled."  "About 
how  long  will  it  take  to  accomplish  this  great  undertak 
ing?"  asked  the  reporter.  "About  six  months."  "You 
think  3'ou  can  make  this  long  journey,  do  you?"  "I  do, 
sir  ;  and  time  will  tell."  "You  are  the  man  to  do  it,  if 
any  one  can,"  said  the  reporter.  "How  soon  will  you 
leave  this  place  ?"  "I  intend  to  leave  to-morrow  morn 
ing,  early."  "Will  your  cow  be  able  to  travel  so  soon?" 


104  RENO. 


''Well,  I  am  going  to  try  it ;  if  I  see  that  it  is  too 
much  for  her  I  shall  rest  again.  From  here  to  Wadsworth 
is  about  thirty-four  miles  and  I  will  take  two  days  to 
travel  there."  "I  suppose  }'ou  have  your  road  marked 
out  before  you  ?"  said  the  reporter.  "1  have  ;  I  intend 
to  follow  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad  to  Ogden.  I  do  not 
intend  to  leave  it  any  distance,  in  case  any  serious  acci 
dent  should  occur  to  me,  I  shall  have  the  railroad  to  fall 
back  upon."  "Well,  stranger,  I  hope  you  will  succeed,*  if 
you  do,  you  will  stand  on  the  top  ladder  of  fame.  Good 
bye,"  said  the  reporter.  "Good-bye,  sir,"  I  replied.  I  re 
turned  to  my  camp,  fed  my  cattle,  got  my  dinner  ready 
and  ate  it ;  I  put  the  wagon  together,  tried  the  bolts  and 
found  everything  in  good  order,  ready  for  my  start  next 
da}^.  In  the  evening  I  allowed  the  cattle  their  liberty, 
but  they  did  not  wander  far,  and  kept  their  eyes  on  the 
picture  ;  by  which,  I  mean  my  wagon.  About  6  p.  m., 
there  were  a  large  number  of  the  citizens  of  the  town 
around,  asking  me  many  questions,  all  appeared  anxious 
about  our  journey.  One  said,  "Friend  traveller,  when  do 
you  leave  us?"  "I  propose  to  leave  to-morrow  morning, 
early."  "Since  your  arrival,  and  knowing  your  intentions, 
being  obliged  to  remain  here  on  account  of  your  cow,  you 
have  s;iven  us  something  to  think  and  talk  about  when  you 
have  gone.  This  is  a  new  and  wonderful  undertaking  ;  a 
man  of  your  age,  journeying  from  ocean  to  ocean,  from 
California  to  Massachusetts,  with  a  horse,  carriage,  cow 
in  the  rear,  and  dog  jumping  in  and  out  of  carriage  at 
pleasure,  and  yourself  a  man  of  sixty-five  years,  or  there 
abouts  ;  I  repeat,  it  is  a  most  wonderful  undertaking.  I, 
for  one,  will  daily  look  in  the  papers  to  learn  of  your 
whereabouts ;  I  hope  and  pray  that  you  may  be  safely 
carried  through,  you  will  need  a  strong  arm  of  protection, 
and  hope  you  will  be  protected  night  and  day.  Stranger, 
you  appear  to  be  a  man  of  strong  nerve  ;  if  you  falter  in 
the  least  you  certainly  will  fail  in  this  undertaking."  A 


RENO.  105 


man  in  the  crowd  sang  out,  "Three  cheers  for  the  man 
from  California  going  East  to  Massachusetts,"  which 
were  given  with  a  will.  •  "Strangers  to  me  you  all  were, 
but  now  friends.  On  my  arrival  I  at  once  made  for  a 
blacksmith's  shop,  so  anxious  was  I  to  get  shoes  on  the 
feet  of  my  cow.  On  my  way  I  had  tried  to  get  her  shod, 
but  could  not.  I  was  told  at  Webber's  Lake,  that  here  I 
could  get  her  shod.  Therefore,  I  was  anxious  to  reach 
this  place.  Now  she  has  iron  shoes  on  all  her  feet,  I  hope 
she  will  be  able  to  wear  them  out ;  to-morrow  morning  I 
intend  to  leave  you.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  believe 
your  sympathies  are  with  me.  I  believe  this,  for  you  have 
been  kind  to  me  and  befriended  me  in  many  ways.  To 
you,  stranger,  in  particular  I  feel  grateful,  and  I  am  sure 
my  cattle  are,  for  the  grass  you  so  kindly  offered  me  for 
them,  so  accept  this  small  token  of  my  regard.  There  is 
another  person  to  whom  I  wish  to  express  my  gratitude, 
but  I  do  not  see  him  here,  I  mean  the  depot  master,  for 
allowing  me  to  sell  my  milk  to  passengers  on  the  passing 
trains,  to  him  I  give  my  thanks  and  thanks  also  to  you 
all,  farewell." 


CHAPTER  IV. 


FROM  RENO,  BATTLE  MOUNTAIN,  WELLS  TO  OGDEN, 

IN  UTAH. 

I  left  Reno  the  24th  of  August,  and  reached  Wads- 
worth  on  the  2oth,  a  distance  of  thirty-four,  miles.  It 
was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  I  left.  In 
journeying  to  Wads  worth,  we  follow  the  railroad  and  the 
Truckee  river — river  on  your  right  and  railroad  on  your 
left,  with  carriage  road  on  both  sides  of  railroad  right  and 
left.  The  river  is  very  crooked,  especially  as  it  winds 


106  RENO. 


through  the  canyon.  Both  rail  and  carriage  roads  are  on 
the  north  side  of  the  river.  The  railroad  crowds  the 
highway  in  many  places.  The  river  here  takes  a  heavy 
bend  to  the  left  close  up  to  the  bluff.  The  old  trail  used 
to  be  between  the  river  and  the  bluff ;  the  railroad  took 
possession  of  the  bluff,  throwing  the  carriage  road  more 
on  the  mountain  ;  at  another  place,  where  the  river  ran 
close  to  the  bluffs  the  railroad  was  obliged  to  cut  back 
into  the  bluff  to  make  room  for  the  highway.  This  cost 
the  railway  company  a  large  sum  of  money,  and  it  may 
3'et  cost  them  much  more.  This  is  a  dangerous  place  and 
should  there  ever  be  a  collision  in  this  narrow  pass,  the 
cars  would  surely  be  thrown  into  the  river  and  prove  a 
complete  wreck. 

Reno  is  one  of  the  most  promising  towns  in  the  county. 
It  is  situated  on  a  high  elevation,  on  the  Central  Pacific 
railroad,  in  the  county  of  Washoe,  State  of  Nevada.  As 
you  enter  the  town  from  the  west,  you  pass  through  a 
broad  street ;  on  your  right  is  the  railroad  and  on  your 
left  are  many  fine  houses.  In  front  is  the  depot,  a  large 
fine  building,  comprising  both  depot  and  hotel.  About 
twenty  rods  from  the  depot  there  is  a  sharp  bend  in  the 
road  to  the  right,  which  carries  you  over  the  railroad  and 
then  it  bends  again  sharply  to  the  left.  On  the  right  of 
this  road  are  two  long  brick  blocks,  which  contain  a  num 
ber  of  stores  in  which  all  kinds  of  merchandise  can  be 
found  for  sale — dry  goods  or  wet,  hardware  or  soft, 
whiskies  and  lemons,  etc.  All  teams  have  to  pass  this 
point  and  in  passing  I  stopped,  there  was  plenty  of  room 
to  give  others  the  right  of  way.  Having  a  time  table  in 
my  pocket  I  looked  at  it,  and  found  that  the  morning 
trains  had  all  passed  and  the  trains  in  the  afternoon  were 
late.  There  are  but  four  trains  per  day  over  this  road — 
two  from  the  west  and  two  from  the  east,  one  express  and 
one  freight  each  wuy.  You  are  able  to  see  but  a  short 


WADSWORTH.  107 


distance  up  or  down  the  road,  the  roads  being  so  winding. 
The  road  lies  between  the  railroad  and  the  river  mostly, 
especially  in  the  canyon.  In  front,  is  a  bend  in  the  river, 
there  I  am  obliged  to  cross  the  railroad  to  my  left.  I 
went  on  but  a  short  distance  before  I  re-crossed — being 
now  between  the  railroad  and  river.  Going  further,  I 
came  to  another  sharp  bend  in  the  river  to  my  left ;  here 
I  crossed  the  railroad  and  my  route  then  lay  over  the 
mountain.  Having  crossed  over  I  went  into  camp  and 
fed  my  cattle  with  grain,  I  made  up  my  bed  and  lay  down 
to  rest  but  could  not  sleep  as  there  were  too  many  wild 
animals  around  for  comfort.  I  kept  a  good  fire  burning 
all  night. 

On  the  morning  of  the  25th  I  broke  camp  early,  and 
travelled  until  I  came  to  some  grass  where  I  stopped  and 
gave  the  cattle  a  good  feed  from  it,  after  which  I  made 

for  Wads  worth. 

• 

Wadsworth  is  an  old  town,  and  when  the  emigrants 
used  to  come  overland  through  this  great  American 
desert,  the  sight  of  this  place  was  most  cheeiy  after  weeks 
of  hard  travelling.  Since  the  building  of  the  railroad  the 
town  has  considerably  improved  ;  there  is  a  depot  on  a 
large  scale  and  the  town  has  a  population  of  twelve  hun 
dred.  The  railroad  corporation  has  established  a  machine 
shop  here  for  the  repair  of  their  rolling  stock,  which  gives 
employment  to  many  hands.  It  has  two  hotels,  several 
stores  and  many  saloons ;  drinking  and  gambling  are  very 
common  in  this  place.  In  an  interview  with  the  superin 
tendent  of  the  railroad  about  my  route,  he  advised  me  to 
buy  two  ten  gallon  cans,  fill  them  with  water  and  carry 
them  with  me,  also  giving  me  introductions  to  the  station 
agents  on  the  road,  asking  for  water  for  my  cattle.  This 
was  magnanimous  ;  for  hundreds  of  miles  water  is  trans 
ported  by  the  railroad  and  deposited  in  tanks  at  the  sev- 


108  MIRAGE. 


eral  stations  from  Wadsworth  to  Ogden  for  drinking  and 
cooking  purposes. 

I  left  Wadsworth  on  the  25th  and  made  Mirage  the 
same  day,  a  distance  of  twent}T-five  miles.  After  leaving 
Wadsworth,  the  first  six  miles  was  through  deep,  heavy 
sand,  the  wheels  sank  into  it  about  six  inches,  which 
made  hard  pulling  for  the  horse.  I  also  had  a  heavier 
load  than  usual ;  there  was  a  sack  of  barley  for  the  horse, 
and  a  sack  of  bran  for  the  cow,  each  lOOlbs.  ;  ten  gallons 
of  water,  851bs.  ;  in  all  2851bs.  ;  besides  my  common  out 
fit,  such  as  clothing,  bedding,  provisions  and  other  things 
say  about  2001bs.  more.  My  carriage  is-  light,  about 
3001bs.  ;  making  a  total  of  about  8G01bs.  Fanny  had  to 
haul  through  this  six  miles  of  sand.  I  had  been  informed 
of  this  heavy  road  before  starting.  About  nine  o'clock  I 
reached  the  desert ;  just  as  I  was  reaching  the  bottom  of 
the  bluff  on  the  desert,  the  express  train  from  the  west 
passed  me.  I  stopped  and  gave*the  horse  a  can  of  water, 
but  did  not  give  any  to  the  cow  although  she  wanted  some. 
About  two  miles  further  we  came  to  a  second  station,  I 
stopped  and  looked  around  but  saw  no  one  ;  I  looked  for 
the  water  tank  and  soon  found  it  below  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  I  lifted  the  lid  and  found  there  was  water,  I  got 
a  pail  and  tested  it  and  found  it  fair.  I  gave  both  horse 
and  cow  as  much  as  the3T  would  drink  and  filled  my  empty 
can  and  then  went  on  ;  it  was  about  ten  in  the  forenoon. 
I  had  not  gone  much  further,  when  on  looking  round  saw 
the  freight  train  from  the  west  approaching.  All  hands 
on  the  train  knew  me,  as  they  had  bought  my  milk. 
At  this  time  I  was  travelling  on  the  great  desert,  a  better 
road  I  never  saw  ;  a  hard  smooth  surface,  rather  too  hard 
for  Bessie's  feet.  I  am  now  on  the  left  of  the  railroad, 
my  direction  is  to  the  east.  In  front  of  me  are  some 
buildings,  which  proved  to  be  salt  works.  About  three 
o'clock  I  met  the  freight  train  from  the  east,  and  at  four 


MIRAGE.  109 


reached  Hot  Springs.  Here  I  made  a  stop  and  intro 
duced  myself  to  the  agent,  showing  him  my  card  in  re 
gard  to  water.  He  told  me  that  I  could  have  all  I  wished. 
I  gave  the  cattle  water  and  grain  and  refilled  my  cans, 
intending  to  do  so  at  every  station.  It  was  fair  water, 
brought  from  Wads  worth  from  the  Truckee  river.  "Where 
are  the  Hot  Springs?"  I  asked  of  the  depot  master. 
Pointing,  he  answered,  "They  are  j'onder,  you  will  see 
where  to  turn  in  at  the  trail,- it  is  only  a  short  distance  to 
your  right."  I  went  to  see  the  springs  and  found  a  wet, 
dirty,  nasty,  mud-hole.  The  water  was  warm,  not  hot  as 
I  had  supposed.  I  thought  myself  sold,  as  others  before 
had  been  on  this  place.  I  travelled  further  and  about  six 
o'clock  met  another  train  from  the  east,  but  could  not  see 
much  express  about  it,  as  stops  were  made  at  every 
station,  running  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  in  three  minutes. 
It  was  about  half-past  eight  o'clock  when  I  reached  Mir 
age.  I  took  Fanny  from  the  carriage  and  fastened  her  to 
the  left  rear  wheel,  the.  cow  opposite  and  gave  them  water 
and  grain,  made  up  my  bed  between  them  and  laid  down 
and  was  soon  asleep.  Some  time  in  the  night  I  awoke, 
my  watch  having  run  down  I  could  not  tell  the  time  ;  all 
around  was  still,  On  my  left  at  a  long  distance,  I  heard 
the  cry  of  a  coyotte.  I  thought  it  was  morning,  still  I 
could  not  see  any  signs  of  the  sun  having  risen.  I  laid 
down  and  thought  to  sleep  but  could  not.  I  spoke  to  my 
horse,  "Fanny,  are  you  asleep?"  she  at  once  got  up  and  I 
gave  her  some  grain,  this  brought  up  Bessie,  she  wanted 
some  too,  so  I  gave  her  some  and  both  were  busily  eating. 
Looking  eastward,  I  was  sure  I  saw  a  light  and  thought 
it  must  be  morning  and  so  made  ready  for  moving  for 
ward.  The  light  I  saw  was  only  about  the  width 
of  my  hand. 

I  left  Mirage  very  early  on  the  27th  and  made  Granite 
Point  that  day,  a  distance  of  twenty-eight  miles.     It  was 


110  GRANITE  POINT. 


one  of  the  finest  mornings  I  ever  saw,  and  my  road  was  a 
good  one  and  I  journeyed  with  good  cheer.  About  half- 
past  six  o'clock  I  saw  smoke  in  our  front,  and  spoke  to 
my  horse,  saying  "Fannie,  go  on,  we  will  soon  have 
breakfast."  We  shortly  came  to  a  station  called  White 
Plains.  Here  was  a  good  house  not  painted  brown  like 
others,  but  white  ;  there  were  several  men  around  and  as  I 
came  up  bade  them  good  morning.  One  of  the  men  an 
swered,  "Where  in  h — 1  are  you  from,  and  where  are  you 
going ;  you  must  have  come  from  the  East  some  time  ?" 
"Yes,  I  came  from  the  East"  "But  where  are  you  now 
from?"  "I  am  from  California  and  going  East."  "Yes, 
I  know  you  are  travelling  East,  but  where  do  you  intend 
to  haul  up?"  "In  Massachusetts."  "The  d — 1  }'ou  are, 
with  that  outfit ;  that  cow  will  never  see  Massachusetts." 
"But  where  are  }*ou  from,  and  what  are  you  doing  with 
that  derrick  ?"  I  asked.  "I  am  from  New  York  and  came 
here  to  make  an  artesian  well,"  was  answered.  "I  want 
a  pail  so  that  I  can  milk  my  cow  ;  you  can  have  the  milk. 
By  the  way,  I  don't  suppose  that  you  have  any  hay  that  I 
can  get  for  my  cattle?"  "Yes,  I  have  some  hay,  you  can 
have  some  of  it  for  your  cattle.  Perhaps  they  would  not 
eat  it,  but  we  will  try  them."  The  hay  was  placed 
before  them  and  they  seemed  to  relish  it  very  much  from 
the  greediness  with  which  they  ate  it.  I  got  a  pail  and 
milked  the  cow  and  giving  it  to  the  stranger,  said  "Will 
this  pay  for  the  hay?"  He  answered,  "Yes,  and  more  ;  go 
into  the  house  and  get  some  breakfast."  So  I  partook  of 
breakfast  with  him.  "How  far  have  you  come  this  morn 
ing?"  he  asked.  "From  Mirage,"  I  answered.  "How 
far  did  you  travel  yesterday?"  "From  Wadsworth,  about 
twenty-five  miles."  "Now,  stranger,  you  say  you  belong 
in  Massachusetts  and  going  home  ;  do  3*ou  honestly  think 
you  can  make  that  distance  with  that  cow?"  "I  do,  why 
not ;  3'ou  see  she  has  iron  shoes  on  her  feet,  and  I  think 
she  will  stand  the  journey  as  well  as  the  horse.  She  has 


GRANITE  POINT.  Ill 


nothing  to  do  but  walk  ;  I  think  she  will  make  the  journey." 
"Stranger,  I  hope  you  will ;  if  you  do  succeed,  just  make 
a  book  of  3'our  journey."  "I  will,  and  you  may  get  hold 
of  one  of  them."  "I  should  like  to  meet  you  somewhere 
down  East ;  I  would  give  more  to  see  you  tha^  Barnum's 
big  show."  "Well,  friend,  I  must  be  going  on,  I  have 
got  to  tramp  every  day,  and  make  big  days  at  that  before 
I  reach  the  Eastern  States."  "Well,  stranger,  I  hope  you 
will  get  safely  through  ;  good-bye."  It  was  about  seven 
o'clock  when  I  left  him  ;  I  kept  the  railroad  on  my  left. 
At  eleven  o'clock  I  came  to  another  station,  called 
Brown's  Station.  I  made  but  a  short  stop  at  this  place, 
just  long  enough  to  water  and  feed.  This  is  a  telegraph 
station  ;  only  two  buildings,  the  depot  and  a  house.  At 
half-past  twelve  I  left  and  journeyed  with  the  railroad  on 
my  left,  and  as  I  travel  the  desert  is  left  behind  me,  my 
course  now  lying  through  Humboldt  valley,  the  river  of 
that  name  being  on  my  right.  I  intended  to  reach  Love 
lock's,  but  my  trail  led  me  so  far  to  the  right  that  I  was 
obliged  to  return  to  the  railroad,  so  made  Granite  Point 
instead.  This  station  is  nothing  but  a  house  for  the  Boss 
of  repairs  and  a  shanty  for  his  Chinamen.  I  took  the 
horse  from  the  carriage  and  fastened  her  as  usual,  with 
the  cow  opposite,  after  feeding  I  made  my  bed  and  laid 
down,  being  only  disturbed  that  night  by  a  passing  train. 

It  was  four  o'clock  when  I  left  Granite  Point  on  the 
morning  of  the  28th,  and  made  thirty  miles  in  reaching 
Rye  Patch.  I  was  at  Lovelock's  Station  at  seven-thirty. 
On  leaving  Granite  Point  I  found  that  I  was  travelling  as 
it  were  in  a  new  world  ;  such  a  change?  Fields  that  had  j 
once  been  cut  were  again  ready  for  the  scythe  ;  wheat, 
oats,  barley,  were  in  the  fields  ready  for  thrashing.  What 
is  the  cause  of  this  sudden  change^  I  have  stated  that  I 
had  got  through  the  desert  and  was  travelling  the  Hum 
boldt  valley  near  the  river.  The  change  is  caused  by  the 


112  LOVELOCK  STATION. 

system  of  irrigation.  A  short  distance  above  the  station, 
the  owners  of  the  land  adjoining  have  built  a  dam  across 
the  river ;  ditches  about  three  feet  widet  are  also  con 
structed  to  riin  on  each  side  of  the  road,  which  are  kept 
full  from  the  dam  ;  other  ditches  are  constructed  at  right 
angles,  dividing  the  flat  lands  into  plats  about  twenty 
rods  long  by  sixteen  wide,  from  this  dam  and  ditches  the 
land  is  thoroughly  saturated  with  water  and  is  preferred 
to  overflowing  as  practiced  at  Reno  and  other  places.  I 
remember  when  crossing  the  Savannah  river,  at  Savan 
nah,  S.  C.,  that  the  lands  for  miles  were  level  and  cut 
up  with  ditches,  filled  with  water,  which  made  the  best 
rice  grounds  in  the  States. 

Lovelock's  is  quite  a  place,  two  hotels,  two  stores,  a 
post-office  and  many  houses,  such  as  they  are.  The  sur 
roundings  look  rough.  There  are  many  Indians.  I 
went  into  the  post-office  and  had  an  interview  with  the 
Postmaster,  telling  him  where  I  was  from,  where  going, 
and  asked  him  if  it  was  safe  to  travel  among  such 
people  as  were  there — Indians  in  particular.  He  said  I 
need  not  fear  their  people  or  the  Indians ;  I  need  only 
fear  the  tramps  and  those  who  are  put  off  the  trains  at 
such  stations  as  this,  who  travel  to  the  next  to  steal  a 
ride  and  be  put  off  again.  "Had  I  met  any  of  them?"  he 
asked.  I  answered,  "That  I  had  met  many  of  them ; 
they  ask  for  something  to  eat  or  drink  and  I  have  often 
given  them  bread  and  milk.  Some  have  offered  to  pay, 
but  as  yet  I  have  taken  nothing  from  them."  "You  had 
better  feed  them,  it  will  be  the  best  way  to  get  along 
with  them."  "But  I  am  afraid  they  will  want  something 
that  I  should  not  care  to  give  them."  "That  will  be  the 
trouble,  but  look  sharp  at  them.  If  you  want  anything 
that  I  have,  sugar,  tea,  coffee,  bread  or  cheese,  take  it 
along  with  you,"  said  the  Postmaster.  "I  would  like  a 
small  piece  of  cheese  and  some  crackers,'!!  have  plenty  of 


RYE  PATCH.  113 


sugar,  tea  and  coffee."  "You  have  a  wagon  and  a  good 
looking  horse,  who  will  draw  a  good  large  load."  A  large 
piece  of  cheese,  about  51bs.,  a  large  box  of  crackers,  four 
cans  of  salmon,  a  bottle  of  vinegar  and  a  small  bottle  of 
bourbon,  all  for  nothing.  "He  that  giveth,  lendeth, 
etc."  I  think  of  this  proverb  many  times  ;  it  is  good  to 
think  of,  but  better  to  practice.  I  thanked  the  Post 
master  and  we  bade  each  other  good-bye,  he  expressing  a 
wish  to  hear  from  me.  At  twelve  o'clock  the  express 
train  passed  me  from  the  west.  At  one  o'clock  I  crossed 
the  Humboldt  river  over  a  bridge,  about  a  mile  from 
Oreana  Station.  The  river  is  on  my  left,  the  railroad  on 
the  right.  I  stopped  here  and  gave  my  cattle  water  from 
the  river  and  a  feed  of  grain.  At  two  p.  m.,  I  resumed 
my  journey  and  did  not  stop  at  the  station,  but  left  it  to 
my  right,  as  I  was  anxious  to  get  to  Rye  Patch  this  night. 
The  good  road  has  left  me  and  I  am  now  travelling  a  road 
of  sand,  sage  and  ravines.  At  three  o'clock  the  freight 
from  the  west  passed  and  at  four  the  express  from  the 
east  passed)  I  signalled  for  them  to  stop,  but  they  kept 
on  as  thougfl  I  was  nothing.  At  half-past  seven  I  reached 
Rye  Patch  ;  on  arriving  I  inquired  for  the  station  agent. 
A  large  noble-looking  man  answered  my  inquiry.  "Are 
you  the  agent  of  this  station?"  I  inquired.  "I  am^  what 
can  I  do  for  you?"  "I  am  a  traveller,  come  a  long  dis 
tance  and  have  a  great  distance  still  before  me!  this  cow  is 
anxious  to  have  her  milk  taken  out  of  her  bag,  will  you 
find  me  a  pail  in  which  to  milk  her."  He  brought  me 
one  and  I  sat  down  and  milked  her  in  the  presence  of 
several  persons,  and  then  gave  it  to  the  depot  master, 
saying,  "I  would  like  some  hay  for  my  cattle,  if  you  have 
any?"  "I  have  both  hay  and  grain,  and  }-ou  can  have  a 
dish  of  tea  also  if  you  wish."  Myself  and  cattle  were 
then  well  cared  for.  The  Depot  master  then  said, 
"Come  in,  stranger,  take  a  seat  and  tell  me  all  about  you, 
where  you  are  from  and  where  going:  I  am  anxious  to 


114  RYE  PATCH. 


know."  "Landlord,  I  will  call  you,  }rouhave  a  fine  com 
modious  hotel  building  here.  When  the  railroad  corpor 
ation  erected  this  building  they  must  have  had  something 
large  in  view  for  such  a  building  in  a  desert."  "Yes, 
they  had ;  it  was  intended  for  a  hotel,  where  the  cars 
should  stop  and  time  be  allowed  for  passengers  to  take 
meals  here,  which  was  done  for  a  time,  but  it  was  chang 
ed  so  as  to  stop  at  Humboldt  station,  eleven  miles  above 
this  place,  the  change  made  Humboldt  a  busy  place  every 
day  in  the  week.  When  you  reach  this  place  and  see  the 
handsome  trees  planted  in  the  grove  you  will  be  delighted 
and  will  want  to  stop  over  a  day  or  two.  But,  stranger, 
tell  me  where  you  are  from  and  where  going  to?"  "Well, 
landlord,  I  belong  in  Massachusetts,  I  went  to  California 
in  1880  and  resided  in  Eureka,  I  left  that  place  the  first 
day  of  June  on  my  way  back  to  Massachusetts,  and  have 
got  so  far."  "Well,  stranger,  I  think  you  are  a  man  of 
great  nerve.  It  will  take  all  you  have  got  to  cover  that 
distance  ;  you  surely  cannot  do  it  with  that  outfit.  The 
cow  will  not  go  half  the  distance.  It  is  a  fine  looking 
cow,  too  good  and  handsome  to  throw  away ;  you  had 
better  sell  her  at  the  first  chance."  "Now  landlord,  let 
us  reason  together ;  here  I  am  with  horse  and  carriage, 
cow  and  dog ;  both  horse  and  cow  are  females ;  you  say 
the  horse  may  go  through,  but  the  cow  ma}7  fail.  Sir,  my 
observation  is  that  a  mare  is  worth  more  than  a  horse  in 
the  market,  so  what  reason  can  you  show  that  the  cow 
will  fail  before  the  horse  ;  she  has  on  iron  shoes,  so  has 
the  cow,  both  are  well  shod.  The  horse  has  the  load  to 
haul,  the  cow  none  ;  there  is  the  difference  in  the  two. 
Now,  I  really  think  the  cow  will  come  out  the  best  of  the 
two ;  time  will  tell,  however."  After  supper  I  said  to 
the  landlord,  "I  shall  start  in  the  morning  before  you  are 
up,  shall  I  feed  my  cattle  before  starting?"  "Yes,  look 
well  after  them,  there  is  hay  and  grain,  give  thef  all  they 
can  eat." 


HUMBOLDT.  115 


Rye  Patch  I  left  early  on  the  morning  of  the  29th  and 
made  Humboldt,  a  distance  of  only  eleven  miles.  I 
arose  early  as  was  my  custom,  got  a  pail  and  milked  my 
cow  and  left  the  milk  with  the  landlord,  .who  wished 
me  to  stop  for  breakfast,  but  I  declined,  and  took  "some 
thing  else,"  after  which  we  shook  hands  on  parting.  It 
was  four  o'clock  as  I  left  the  place.  I  was  directed  to 
cross  the  railroad  above  the  water  tank  and  follow  the 
river  to  the  second  right  hand  trail,  as  it  was  the  harder 
and  better  road  to  Humboldt  station,  and  no  sand  for 
nine  miles.  I  left  this  morning  in  high  glee,  every  thing 
bright  and  cheerful.  Travelling  on  the  river  bank,  on 
my  left  is  large  quantities  of  grass,  but  I  have  no  time  to 
stop,  so  about  nine  o'clock  I  reached  Humboldt  Station. 
On  approaching  the  station  I  met  the  freight  from  the 
East ;  all  the  hands  knew  me  and  passed  signals  of  recog 
nition.  Driving  up  in  front  of  the  station,  there  was  not 
a  person  in  sight.  I  sang  out  for  the  proprietor,  and  a 
man  came  at  my  call  saying,  "What  is  wanting,  sir?'* 
t' I  want  to  turn  my  cattle  into  that  grass  and  let  them 
feed  all  day,  how  much  will  3^011  charge  me?"  "You  may 
turn  in  your  cattle  for  two  dollars."  "That  is  a  thunder 
ing  big  price,  as  big  as  that  hill  yonder."  "You  are  aYan- 
kee,  I'll  bet."  "Yes,  I  am  a  Yankee."  "Where  are  you 
from?"  "California."  "Where  are  you  going?"  "Go 
ing  East,  to  Massachusetts."  "What  part  of  California 
are  you  from?"  "From  Humboldt  Bay,  Eureka  city." 
"And  going  to  Massachusetts?"  "Yes,  that  is  where  I 
belong  when  at  home."  "Take  your  horse  out  of  the  car 
riage,  turn  into  that  mowing,  the  cow  also,"  he  com 
manded.  I  did  so  with  a  will.  When  the  time  came 
around  to  milk,  I  did  so  and  carried  the  milk  to  him,  giv 
ing  it  to  him,  who  on  seeing  the  large  mess,  said  "Come 
with  me."  I  went  with  him  into  the  house,  when  he  said 
to  the  steward,  "Give  this  man  a  good  supper."  W^hen 
morning  came,  I  again  milked,  giving  him  the  milk,  and 


116  HUMBOLDT. 


getting  my  breakfast  in  return  for  the  same.  After  break 
fast  I  spoke  to  the  proprietor,  telling  him  I  would  like  to 
stop  another  day  as  my  cattle  and  myself  were  faring 
sumptuously  and  it  would  do  us  all  much  good.  "You 
can  stay  if  you  desire.  I  will  not  charge  you  anything." 
I  remained  there  a  day  longer  than  I  intended. 

Humboldt  is  the  station  of  stations  ;  all  trains  stop  here. 
The  express  train  from  the  west  arrives  at  12:  50  p.  m.  ; 
freight  and  emigrant  at  4  :45  p.  m.  ;  express  from  the 
east  arrives  at  3  :15  p.  m.  ;  freight  and  emigrant  at  8  : 15 
a.  m.  A  fine  dinner  is  furnished  for  one  dollar.  A  pas 
senger  from  the  east  said  to  one  conductor,  "How  long 
do  we  stop  here?"  "Thirty  minutes,"  answered  the  con 
ductor.  "Thirty  minutes,  who  can  eat  a  dollar's  worth 
in  that  time  ;  I  want  more  time  than  that.  Say,  conductor, 
can't  you  give  us  a  little  more  time,  I  am  not  in  the  habit 
of  taking  my  dinner  in  my  hands?''  "Yes,  I  will  give  you 
ten  minutes  more,  as  3~ou  are  a  down-east  Yankee,"  an 
swered  the  conductor.  This  station  is  situated  between 
two  mountains,  one  on  the  right  and  one  on  the  left.  The 
one  south,  is  but  a  little  distance  awa}T,  and  is  a  splendid 
looking  fellow,  so  noble,  so  grand,  scarcely  such  another 
to  be  found  between  the  Pacific  and  the  Atlantic. 
There  has  been  more  money  laid  out  on  this  station  than 
on  any  other  on  the  road.  From  whatever  point  3*011  ap 
proach  this  station  you  will  think  you  are  entering  a  fine 
grove.  The  buildings  are  completely  hidden  by  the  trees. 
As  you  stand  on  the  platform  and  look  around,  }TOU  must 
be  pleased  with  the  surrounding  landscape. 

It  was  midnight  of  the  morning  of  September  first,  as 
I  left  Humboldt  station  and  at  six  I  reached  Mills  City 
station,  a  journey  of  thirteen  miles  by  railroad  and  four 
teen  by  trail.  This  morning's  walk  was  very  invigorating, 
a  good  road  and  fine  weathen  even  the  coyottcs'  call  was 


MILLS  CITY.  117 


melodious.  My  thoughts  were  interesting  and  spread  over 
the   continent   from   the   Pacific  to  the  Atlantic. 

Mills  City  is  a  station  on  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad, 
consists  of  a  hotel  and  store  in  one,  house  for  the  boss  of 
repairs  and  one  for  his  Chinamen — in  all,  four  buildings, 
making  the  city.  My  stop  was  short,  just  one  hour  in 
feeding  the  cattle  and  nryself.  As  I  was  leaving,  the 
morning's  freight  and  emigrant  train  passed  me.  At  this 
place  I  was  advised  to  take  the  left  hand  trail  to  the  river, 
as  it  was  the  better  road  and  more  travelled,  and  freer 
from  sand,  which  I  did.  I  was  still  but  a  short  distance 
from  the  railroad  ;  on  the  left  the  river  and  on  each  bank 
an'  abundance  of  grass,  but  now,  nearly  all  were  fenced 
with  barbed  wire.  About  eleven  o'clock  I  came  near  the 
river,  and  at  this  place  there  was  a  break  in  the  fence  ;  I 
went  in  and  gave  my  cattle  water  from  the  river  and  fed 
them  with  grain  and  the  grass.  I  detached  the  horse 
from  my  carriage^  giving  her  liberty,  which  she  enjoyed  by 
a  series  of  rollings  ;  she  did  enjoy  it.  The  cow  luxuria 
ted  on  the  grass.  About  half-past  one  o'clock  I  resumed 
my  journey,  returning  to  the  road  through  the  break  in 
the  fence.  During  the  afternoon  the  expresses  from  the 
east  and  the  west  passed  me.  About  five  o'clock  I  saw 
some  men  hauling  hay.  I  spoke  to  my  horse,  as  I  fre 
quently  do,  saying  "Fanny,  we  will  soon  turn  in  for  the 
night."  I  travelled  on  until  we  came  around  a  knoll  of 
land  on  which  was  a  stack  of  hay,  along  side  of  which  I 
drove,  giving  my  cattle  a  chance  to  eat  as  much  as  they 
wished  ;  presently  some  men  came  with  another  load,  when 
I  said  to  them,  "Gentlemen,  excuse  me,  and  I  think  you 
will  when  }'ou  know  my  story."  There  were  four  of  them, 
and  the  elder,  a  man  about  sixty-five,  who  replied : 
"Stranger,  what  is  your  story,  you  look  as  if  you  had 
one?"  "Well,  sir ;  we  are  both  strangers,  I  am  a  travel 
ler  and  have  come  a  long  distance,  three  hundred  miles 


118  ROSE  CREEK. 


north  of  San  Francisco."  "What  place,  so  far  north?" 
"Eureka  city,  Humboldt  Bay."  "What,  with  that  cow?" 
"Yes,  just  as  you  see."  "Well,  stranger,  where  do  3'ou 
intend  to  fetch  up?"  "I  intend  to  fetch  up  in  Massachu 
setts  ;  I  may  fail,  there  is  abundance  of  room  for  that." 
"Yes,  I  think  your  chances  of  slipping  up  are  very  good, 
but  you  look  the  man  to  perform  the  journey  if  it  can  be 
done  by  any  one,  and  you  are  about  the  right  age  too. 
Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  your  age?"  "Sir,  I  was  63 
years  of  age  the  llth  of  July."  "I  was  68  on  the  4th  of 
May  last."  "I  came  from  Humboldt  station  this  morn 
ing,  and  I  want  to  stay  over  night  here,  as  it  looks  a  fine 
place  for  my  cattle,  I  have  to  look  well  after  them,  so  that 
I  can  have  a  chance  to  accomplish  my  great  undertaking. 
I  carry  grain  and  feed  them  three  times  a  day ;  hay  is 
something  I  can  not  alwa}*s  get."  "You  can  stay  here 
and  welcome.  I  live  in  Winnemucca,  and  am  going 
there  to-night."  "How  far  is  it  to  there?"  "About  ten 
miles."  "It  will  take  me  four  hours  to  reach  that  place, 
I  shall  start  early  in  the  morning  and  get  there  at  six 
o'clock."  I  gave  the  cattle  water  and  grain,  greased  my 
carriage  and  got  everything  ready  to  start  in  the  morning. 

I  left  Rose  Creek  early  and  reached  Golconda,  a  dis 
tance  of  twenty-seven  miles.  It  was  two  o'clock  when  I 
broke  camp  to  resume  my  journey ;  it  was  a  fine  and 
lovely  morning.  The  road  was  very  sandy,  especially  the 
last  two  miles  in  reaching  Winnemucca,  which  place  I 
reached  at  six  o'clock.  Here  I  rested,  giving  the  cattle 
water  and  grain  and  took  a  bite  myself.  At  this  place  I 
replenished  rations  both  for  myself  and  cattle ;  my  stop 
here  was  just  two  hours. 

Winnemucca  is  an  old  town  for  this  section  of  the 
country ;  settled  long  before  the  railroad  was  thought 
about,  since  it  has  become  quite  a  business  centre.  Large 


WINNEMUCCA.  119 


amounts  of  merchandise  are  brought  to  and  left  at  this 
station.  It  has  extensive  connections  with  Boise  Cit}r, 
Carter ville,  Idaho  City,  Silver  City,  Washington  and 
many  others.  I  left  this  station  at  eight  o'clock,  sharp, 
and  at  nine  o'clock  fell  in  with  a  band  of  Indians,  sixteen 
in  number,  most  of  whom  were  young  and  well-mounted  on 
fine  horses.  I  travelled  about  six  miles  in  their  company^ 
they  could  talk  good  English.  The  elder  Indians  kept  in 
the  advance,  while  the  }rounger  kept  near  me.  I  conver 
sed  with  them  on  the  road,  asking  where  they  lived,  what 
kind  of  labor  they  did  and  how  much  they  got  a  day. 
They  said  they  had  been  cutting  hay  for  some  weeks,  and 
were  paid  a  dollar  per  day  and  board.  "I  asked  them  if 
they  were  satisfied  with.the  white  people  ?"  "Oh,  3res,  no 
trouble  with  the  white  folks."  "How  do  the  older  Indians 
like  them?"  "Some  of  them  no  like,  no  good,  some  very 
good,"  was  the  answer.  Two  of  the  Indians,  with  their 
wives  kept  with  me,  the  others  kept  ahead  of  us.  One 
of  the  Indians  I  asked  if  he  had  any  whisky  ;  he  said  he 
had — would  I  like  some.  He  stopped  and  took  out  a  pint 
bottle,  which  was  full  and  handed  it  to  me ;  I  took  a 
small  drink  and  passed  it  back  to  the  Indian.  He  took 
a  drink  and  then  gave  it  back  to  me,  I  again  tasted  and 
then  went  to  my  basket  and  got  my  flask,  took  a  small 
drink  and  passed  it  to  the  Indian,  calling  his  attention  to 
the  quality  of  the  two  ;  he  noticed  the  difference.  "How 
far  is  it  to  Golconda?"  I  asked.  "About  eight  miles," 
he  answered.  "What  is  the  time  of  the  day?"  "About 
noon,"  he  answered.  I  stopped  and  took  out  my  water 
can  and  gave  the  horse  and  cow  its  contents  to  drink. 
The  Indian  said,  "You  carry  water?"  "Yes,  I  have  two 
cans,  I  keep  them  full  all  the  time."  "You  good  travel 
ler,  you  carry  water."  After  a  while  they  left  me  with 
their  good-b}Tes,  and  were  soon  out  of  sight.  About  four 
in  the  afternoon  I  arrived  at  Golconda  ;  here  I  got  some 
hay  for  my  cattle.  I  asked  the  landlord  if  he  would  take 


120  GOLCONDA. 


milk  in  exchange  for  the  hay.  "Yes,"  he  answered. 
After  milking.  I  carried  it  to  the  house  and  gave  it  to  the 
landlady,  saying,  "This  milk  is  for  the  hay  my  cattle  have 
had."  She  replied,  "My  husband  won't  take  anything 
for  the  hay."  "Please  take  the  milk,  I  would  like  some 
thing  for  my  supper  that  I  do  not  carry."  "You  can 
have  supper  with  us,  }TOU  will  be  welcome."  At  this  time 
the  landlord  came  in  and  she  said,  "This  man  has 
brought  in  a  can  of  milk  to  pay  for  the  hay  ;  I  told  him 
you  would  not  charge  for  the  hay,  did  I  say  right?" 
"Well,  I  don't  know  about  that."  "Well,  there  is  the 
milk,  he  sa}rs  he  can  not  do  anything  with  it,  we  can.  I 
told  him  to  come  in  to  supper."  "Well,  stranger,  you 
seem  to  be  a  traveller,  where  aye  you  from?"  "I  am 
from  California  and  going  to  Massachusetts."  "Massa 
chusetts,  you  are  a  fraud."  "Do  not  say  that;  how  do 
you  know  but  that  he  speaks  the  truth.  He  appears  and 
talks  well,"  said  the  landlad}7.  "Yes,  he  appears  well 
and  talks  well,  and  that  makes  me  think  he  is  a  fraud." 
"Well,  landlord,  come  with  me  and  see  my  cattle,  3'ou, 
landlady,  come  too.  I  will  try  and  convince  you  I  am  not 
a  fraud.  Landlord  that  horse,  carriage,  cow,  dog  and 
myself  left  Eureka  cit}T,  Humboldt  Bay,  the  first  of  June 
last,  and  have  made  all  that  distance  ;  this  is  true  and  no 
fraud."  "I  will  take  back  the  fraud,  but  you  are  crazy." 
"Well,  I  can  stand  that  much  better,  but  I  can  stand 
both."  "Stranger,  I  think  you  are  a  Yankee."  "I  am, 
and  I  think  you  are  also."  "Yes,  I  am  from  the  State 
of  Maine,  and  you  from  Massachusetts,  you  say.  Wife, 
go  in  and  get  supper  ready  and  we  will  be  in  soon."  Af 
ter  a  little  while  the  bell  rang  for  supper  and  I  went  in 
and  sat  down  to  a  hearty  meal.  After  supper  I  got  every 
thing  ready  for  an  early  start  and  went  to  bed.  About 
ten  o'clock  I  was  awoke  b}r  two  men  who  were  passing 
near  my  camp.  "Hello,  stranger,  what  will  you  have?" 
I  asked.  "Nothing,  we  are  only  passing  to  a  herd 


STONEHOUSE.  121 


of  sheep.  You  are  from  the  west ;  we  saw  you  when 
near  the  river  some  three  miles  back,  as  we  were 
feeding  our  sheep.  Where  are  you  going?"  "I  am 
bound  east;  where  are  you  going?"  "We  are  going 
down  to  the  south  part  of  Utah,"  was  answered 

I  left  Golconda  on  the  morning  of  the  3d  at  four 
o'clock,  and  journeyed  as  far  as  Stonehouse,  a  distance  of 
twenty-eight  miles.  In  travelling  to  this  station,  I  was 
advised  to  take  the  left-hand  trail  for  some  six  miles, 
crossing  the  river  when  I  came  to  a  bridge,  by  so 
doing  leave  the  mountain  pass  and  Iron  Point,  then  follow 
the  river  until  coming  to  a  carroll  on  my  right ;  then  take 
the  right-hand  trail  until  I  came  to  a  house,  there  they 
would  give  me  the  trail  to  Stonehouse  station.  In  travel 
ling  this  trail  you  pass  around  the  mountain,  instead  of 
going  over,  and  it  is  about  three  miles  further,  but  an 
easier  road.  It  is  as  good  a  country  road  as  you  can 
find.  I  followed  the  road  as  advised.  Since  leaving 
Lovelock's  I  have  travelled  near  the  river  Humboldt  to 
this  place,  but  here  I  have  to  cross  and  follow  it  to  my 
right  for  two  miles,  to  Iron  Point.  About  eight  o'clock  I 
halted,  took  my  cans  and  filled  them  with  water,  but  it 
was  a  difficult  job  as  the  bank  was  rather  steep,  yet  I 
always  keep  a  full  supply.  I  watered  my  cattle  and 
gave  them  grain  and  took  a  lunch  myself,  eating  my 
breakfast  on  the  bank  of  the  river.  My  dog  was  beside 
me,  the  dog  growled  and  on  looking  around  I  saw  a  man 
on  horseback  coming  towards  me.  As  he  came  up  he 
said,  "How  do,  sir?"  I  replied,  "How  are  you,  my 
friend."  He  was  an  Indian,  with  a  gun  and  game  on  his 
back,  I  offered  him  a  bite  of  some  bread  and  cheese.  He 
took  it  and  thanked  me.  I  found  he  could  speak  good 
English  and  I  asked  him  many  qeustions.  I  requested 
him  to  show  me  the  trail  to  Stonehouse  station.  As  soon 
as  I  was  ready  we  started,  he  leading,  passing  the  house 


122  STONEHOUSE. 


I  had  been  directed  to  take.  Keeping  on  the  right  of  the 
river,  and  shortly  turning  directly  down  a  heavy  bank  on 
to  a  flat  mowing,  and  running  at  a  right  flank,  till  coming 
to  the  river,  which  we  forded,  still  bearing  to  the  right  un 
til  coming  to  the  railroad.  Here  he  left  us.  I  got  the 
flask  of  whisky  and  after  tasting  myself,  handed  it  to  him. 
He  looked  at  it  and  tasted,  but  the  drink  being  so  small  I 
handed  it  back  to  him  again,  and  then  we  bade  each  other 
good-bj'e.  At  this  point  I  was  twelve  miles  from  Stone- 
house  station  ;  and  after  making  five  miles  more  I  stopped 
and  milked  the  cow,  giving  both  the  horse  and  cow  their 
grain.  As  I  was  milking,  the  horse  started  along 
and  the  cow  would  follow.  This  provoked  me  so,  that  I 
stepped  forward  to  the  horse  and  took  hold  of  the  bridle, 
and  then  gave  it  a  jerk,  causing  her  to  back  ;  the  cow  be 
ing  directly  in  the  rear  and  being  fastened  to  the  wheel, 
and  the  horse  backing  crushed  in  the  wheel  completely. 
This  was  done  about  half-past  five  o'clock  and  seven 
miles  from  Stonehouse  station.  I  had  nothing  to  fix 
it  with.  I  got  a  short  piece  of  board  that  I  use  when 
greasing  the  axles  of  my  carriage  to  raise  it  up.  I 
lifted  up  the  axle  and  put  the  board  under,  thus  keeping 
the  carriage  in  its  proper  position  and  left  it  for  the  night. 
I  secured  my  cattle  to  the  sage  bush,  made  up  my  bed  on 
the  ground  as  usual  and  laid  down,  but  could  not  go  to 
sleep.  In  this  way  I  passed  several  hours ;  about  half- 
past  ten,  the  train  from  the  west  came  in  sight.  I  was 
about  a  mile  to  the  west  of  the  railroad.  All  around  was 
quiet,  except  the  call  of  the  coyotte.  Morning  came, 
there  was  no  light  to  be  seen  and  the  sun  had  not  yet 
risen,  but  it  was  at  least  three  o'clock.  I  left  my  all  and 
went  to  the  next  station,  Stonehouse.  On  arriving  about 
five  o'clock,  there  was  no  one  to  be  seen  around.  I  went 
to  the  station  and  called  out  at  the  top  of  my  voice,  when 
a  man  appeared  at  the  window  and  asked,  "What  did  I 
want  at  this  time  in  the  morning?"  uWant,  I  want  many 


STONBHOUSE.  123 


things,  but  at  this  time  more  particularly,  I  want  a  piece 
of  timber  2x4,  fourteen  feet  long.  I  am  in  trouble,  my 
carriage  broke  down  about  eight  miles  back,  one  of  my 
rear  wheels  being  crushed.  I  want  this  timber  so  that  I 
can  bring  my  wagon  here ;  come  out  and  see  if  you  can 
find  something  that  will  answer  my  purpose."  He  came 
out  and  after  looking  around,  said  "Stranger,  there  ap 
pears  nothing  suitable  around  the  station.  Over  there  is 
a  corral,  I  think  you  may  find  something  there."  I  went 
to  the  corral,  saw  what  I  wanted  and  went  back  for  a 
saw,  and  then  returned  and  cut  out  a  piece  of  timber  that 
I  thought  just  the  thing  for  my  purpose  and  went  back  to 
the  station.  I  said  to  the  man,  "This  timber  I  took  out 
of  the  corral,  and  I  purpose  to  make  one  end  fast  to  the 
rocker,  letting  the  timber  run  under  the  axle  to  take 
the  place  of  the  wheel,'  I  would  like  you  to  come  and  as 
sist  me."  "How  far  are  you  from  Iron  Point  station?" 
"I  think  about  half  way.  I  will  get  the  bo}rs  up  and 
we  will  go  and  help  you."  "How  far  are  you  from  the 
railroad?"  "About  a  mile,  perhaps  not  so  far."  "Stop 
and  get  some  breakfast  before  returning."  "Thank  you, 
I  am  anxious  to  get  back  to  my  cattle ;  some  one  may 
borrow  something  I  do  not  care  to  lend."  "You"  need 
not  fear  that,  there  is  scarcely  any  one  passes  by."  I 
would  not  stop,  so  I  took  the  scantling  on  my  shoulder 
and  returned  to  my  outfit ;  but  the  road  back  seemed  long 
and  on  my  arrival  I  found  everything  about  as  I  had  left 
it.  For  more  than  a  mile  I  could  see  the  horse,  and  when 
within  less  than  a  half  mile  I  called  her  and  she  came 
scampering  towards  me ;  I  had  been  five  hours  away 
from  them.  I  gave  them  all  the  water  I  had  in  my  cans, 
and  fed  them  with  grain.  I  fixed  my  wagon,  as  best  I 
could,  the  way  I  have  already  intimated,  and  had  travel 
led  some  distance  to  my  right  when  I  saw  three  men  on  a 
hand-car,  coming  in  rny  direction,  who  proved  to  be  the 
station,  master  and  two  others — when  opposite  they  struck 


124  STONEHOUSE. 


across  the  lots  and  came  up  to  me.  The  station  master 
returned  with  me  and  the  others  went  back  with  the  car  ; 
we  got  to  the  station  all  right,  where  I  remained  all  the 
rest  of  the  day.  The  station  master  and  his  wife  were 
from  New  York  State.  They  made  my  stay  with  them 
most  agreeable.  I  asked  at  what  time  the  freight  and  ex 
press  trains  would  arrive,  and  could  I  ship  the  heaviest 
part  of  my  outfit  to  Battle  Mountain.  I  thought  I  would 
do  this  as  it  would  be  a  very  hard  job  for  my  horse  to  pull 
the  wag  n  with  only  three  wheels  and  a  shoe  for  the 
fourth.  I  found  that  the  freight  was  due  at  11  :15  p.  m., 
and  stops  for  water  and  put  off  freight.  I  got  the  articles 
ready  and  sent  them  by  the  freight.  I  then  made  ready 
for  rest,  gave  the  cattle  their  rations  and  went  to  bed.  I 
rested  all  night  only  being  disturbed  by  a  passing  train 
in  the  night. 

Stonehouse  I  left  early  on  the  morning  of  the  5th  and 
travelled  to  Battle  Mountain,  a  distance  of  nineteen 
miles  that  day.  The  lady  of  the  house  was  up  getting 
the  breakfast  ready,  I  milked  the  cow  and  took  it  into  the 
house.  "This  milk  is  a  great  luxury  to  us,'*  said  the 
lady.  "It  will  make  the  coffee  much  better  ;  we  have  to 
use  condensed  milk,  but  there  is  a  taste  about  it  that  I 
dislike  very  much."  She  called  her  husband  up,  telling 
him  that  I  wished  to  start  off  early,  and  saying,  "John, 
get  up,  I  have  some  extra  good  coffee."  He  got  up,  say 
ing  "I  am  in  for  some  good  coffee."  We  sat  down  to  a 
good  breakfast,  very  good  to  me,  and  as  I  start  I  thank 
them  for  their  hospitality.  They  replied,  "You  are  wel 
come,  would  like  to  do  it  again.  Good  morning,  we  hope 
you  will  get  along  when  your  wagon  is  repaired,  without 
any  further  difficulty."  It  was  just  half-past  five  when  I 
left  and  reached  Battle  Mountain  at  half-past  twelve 
o'clock.  In  reaching  this  place  my  road  has  been  good, 
being  hard  and  solid,  the  day  very  fine  and  hot.  On 


BATTLE  MOUNTAIN.  125 


my  arrival  I  went  direct  to  the  depot,  where  I  found  the 
freight  I  had  shipped  from  Stonehouse.  I  then  went  to  a 
carriage  shop  where  I  found  two  men  at  work,  one  at  the 
forge  and  the  other  at  the  bench.  I  asked  for  the  pro 
prietor  and  the  man  at  the  bench  was  pointed  out  as  the 
person,  so  I  went  up  to  him  sa}Ting,  "Are  you  the  pro 
prietor?"  "I  am,  sir."  "I  am  in  a  bad  fix  and  would 
like  to  be  helped  out  of  it.  I  am  travelling  and  come 
from  California  on  my  way  East,  and  have  broken  one  of 
my  wheels  and  not  able  to  go  any  further  until  it  is  re 
paired."  He  asked  where  my  wagon  was,  I  told  him  and 
fetched  it  so  that  he  could  see  what  was  needed.  Then  I 
asked  him  what  it  would  cost  to  repair  it.  "There  has 
got  to  be  fourteen  new  spokes,  seven  dollars  ;  setting  tire, 
two  dollars  ;  painting,  one  dollar ;  the  job  will  cost  you 
ten  dollars,"  he  replied.  "I  am  in  a  tight  place,  all  the 
money  I  have  is  eleven  dollars  and  forty  cents  ;  you  want 
ten  dollars,  will  you  do  the  job  for  nine,  under  the  circum 
stances?"  "No  sir,  not  a  cent  less."  "Will  you  repair 
the  wheel  without  painting  for  nine  dollars?"  "Yes." 
"When  can  I  have  it?"  "To-morrow  morning,"  was  the 
reply.  The  morrow  came,  I  was  feeling  anxious,  blue, 
and  everything  looked  discouraging.  I  did  not  like  the 
place,  nor  its  surroundings  ;  I  passed  up  and  down  the 
street,  stopping  in  front  of  the  shop.  At  noon  he  had 
not  touched  the  wagon,  but  I  thought  best  under  the  cir 
cumstances  to  keep  mum.  About  four  o'clock  he  com 
menced  work  and  finished  the  wood  part,  the  setting  of 
the  tire  was  not  done,  so  I  could  not  start  on  my  journey 
as  I  intended  and  was  obliged  to  remain.  I  held  my  tem 
per — said  not  a  word — my  horse  and  cow  I  kept  continu 
ally  in  my  sight.  While  obliged  to  stop,  a  reporter  came 
up  to  me  asking  many  questions,  where  I  was  from 
and  where  going,  which  I  answered  most  respectfully. 
After  he  had  got  through  with  his  questions,  I  thought, 
perhaps  he  might  befriend  me  ;  so  I  told  him  how  I  was 


126  BATTLE  MOUNSAIN. 


situated  and  the  amount  I  was  t^>  pay  f  >r  repairing  my 
carriage.  He  answered,  saying,  "He  is  a  mean,  con 
temptible  scoundrel,  in  taking  advantage  of  a  man  in  this 
manner ;  why,  he  ought  not  to  charge  you  half  that 
amount."  I  told  him  I  had  but  eleven  dollars  and  forty 
cents,  and  could  not  get  more  until  I  arrived  in  Ogden, 
where  I  expected  to  get  a  check  that  I  had  ordered  to  be 
sent  and  retained  until  my  arrival.  "Having  given  you 
the  full  particulars  I  would  like  your  consideration?"  He 
answered,  "Come  with  me."  I  went  with  him  and  he  in 
troduced  me  to  a  person  who  he  said  was  a  Deputy 
Sheriff  of  the  county,  aud  related  my  circumstances  to 
him  and  how  I  was  being  treated  by  the  man  who  was  re 
pairing  my  carriage.  "When  does  he  say  it  will  be 
done?"  asked  the  sheriff.  "He  agreed  to  do  it  yesterday, 
but  it  is  not  done  }ret,  the  tire  is  not  set."  "What  does 
he  say  about  it?"  "I  have  not  said  anything  about  it,  I 
dare  not."  "When  he  gets  it  done,  do  not  pay  Kim,  let 
me  know  and  I  will  go  down  with  you  ;  we  will  talk  this 
matter  over  with* him,  I  think  he  will  make  a  reduction  ; 
at  any  rate,  we  will  see  what  he  has  to  say  about  it."  "It 
is  now  about  half-past  nine  o'clock,  I  will  go  down  and 
report  soon,"  I  said.  I  went  to  the  shop  and  asked  him 
if  the  carriage  was  done,  he  said  not,  but  would  be  soon. 
About  this  time  there  was  considerable  excitement  among 
the  people  ;  the  reporter  had  told  it  around  that  there  was 
a  man  in  town  who  had  come  from  Eureka,  California, 
with  a  horse,  cow,  carriage  and  dog,  on  his  way  East,  to 
Massachusetts,  which  caused  the  people  to  gather  around, 
Indians  as  well.  This  town  is  a  great  place  for  Indians. 
(There  was  another  railway  running  through  this  place, 
and  the  Indians  ride  free  on  all  the  roads.)  At  this 
junction  they  gather  in  large  numbers ;  I  saw  more  here 
than  in  any  place  on  my  journey.  You  remember  I  have 
told  of  an  Indian  lunching  with  me  on  the  banks  of  the 
river  two  days  ago.  This  same  Indian  came  to  me  while 


BATTLE  MOUNTAIN.  127 


here,  saying  he  had  seen  me  at  Iron  Point.  I  did  not 
recognize  him,  he  being  dressed  up  in  such  a  fine  suit  of 
clothes.  He  wanted  me  to  get  him  a  pint  of  whisky, 
saying  for  an  excuse,  "They  would  not  sell  an  Indian 
an}'."  He  gave  me  the  wink  to  follow  him,  which  I  did  ; 
on  getting  out  of  sight  he  handed  me  a  pint  flask  with  a 
dollar  in  silver,  telling  me  to  go  to  such  a  place  and  there 
I  could  get  it.  I  did  not  let  any  one  know  about  this  at 
the  time  ;  after  I  had  purchased  and  delivered  the  whisky 
to  him,  he  told  me  that  there  was  a  heavy  fine  for  any 
person  who  should  sell  or  deliver  whisky  to  an  Indian  ;  so 
you  see  how  shrewd  the  Indian  was,  while  I  was  ignorant 
of  the  law.  After  this  I  went  to  see  if  the  carriage  was 
done,  and  finding  it  ready  I  went  to  the  printing  office 
and  informed  the  reporter.  He,  with  several  others,  went 
to  the  shop  with  me.  The  reporter  went  tip  to  the  man 
and  said  :  "I  want  to  speak  to  you.  You  have  been  do 
ing  a  job  for  this  man  and  are  charging  him  ten  dollars 
for  it ;  if  I  were  having  the  same  done  you  would  not 
have  charged  me  more  than  half  that  price  or  less, 
you  are  doing  very  wrong  with  this  man.  He  says  he  has 
but  eleven  dollars  and  forty  cents,  and  he  told  }TOU  the 
same.  It  is  all  he  has  or  can  get  until  he  arrives  at 
Ogden.  Now,  let  us  come  to  the  point ;  will  you  rob  that 
man  and  take  his  money,  or  half  it  with  him?"  The 
wheelwright  turning  to  me  said,  "Give  me  five  dollars, 
that  will  do  for  this  time  ;  when  you  come  again  bring 
more  money ;  further,  if  you  will  stay  until  to-mor 
row  morning  I  will  paint  the  wheel  for  }TOU  and  charge 
nothing  for  it."  I  agreed  to  stop-over  and  returned  with 
the  reporter;  on  the  way  I  had  to  "smile"  with  him  and 
others.  I  was  pressed  with  a  thousand  questions,  which 
I  answered  and  became  quite  familiar  with  the  people  and 
was  frequently  pressed  to  "smile"  with  them.  I  expres 
sed  anxiety  to  be  with  my  cattle,  or  some  one  might  want 
to  borrow  and  forget  to  return  them.  I  was  told  I  need 


128  SHOSHONE. 


not  fear,  I  was  too  old,  too  honest,  for  any  one  to  harm 
me.  I  was  a  noble  man,  and  a  man  of  great  courage 
to  undertake  such  a  journey  as  I  was  on.  They  hoped  I 
would  get  through  all  safe,  and  if  I  did,  to  let  them  know. 
A  hat  was  passed  around  and  the  contents  given  me, 
nine  dollars  and  fifty  cents  were  counted  out.  Some  one 
in  the  crowd  put  in  fifty  cents  more,  making  ten  dollars. 
I  think  the  above  incident  is  worth  recording  and  give  the 
credit  to  the  boys  of  Battle  Mountain. 

On  the  morning  of  the  8th  I  left  Battle  Mountain, 
about  three  o'clock,  intending  to  reach  Beowawe  the  same 
day,  travelling  a  distance  of  thirty-three  miles.  On  leav 
ing  Battle  Mountain  I  followed  the  railroad  to  my  right 
for  over  a  mile,  then  following  the  river  for  some  ten 
miles,  when  I  agaiu  came  to  the  right  of  the  railroad  to 
Shoshone  station.  In  making  Beowawe  I  pass  two 
stations,  Argenta  and  Shoshone.  I  travelled  twenty- 
three  miles  in  nine  hours,  making  only  one  stop,  the  road 
being  one  of  the  best.  On  arriving  at  Shoshone,  twelve 
miles,  I  introduced  myself  to  the  station  agent,  who  was  a 
boss  of  repairs,  as  a  traveller  from  California  on  my  way 
home.  "Where  is  your  home?"  "My  home  is  down 
East."  "Where  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  good  is  down 
East?"  "Why,  way  down  to  Massachusetts,  that  is 
down  East."  "I  should  think  it  was;  you  are  one  of 
our  Eastern  Yankees,  are  you?"  "Yes,  I  am."  "And 
going  to  take  that  cow  with  you?"  "Yes,  I  intend  to." 
"But  you  can  not  do  that  much,  she  can  not  stand  it." 
"But  she  has,  much  better  than  the  horse,  and  will  I 
think."  "I  am  from  New  York  and  have  been  here  three 
years."  "You  like  here,  do  you?"  "It  is  a  good  place 
to  save  your  money,  no  way  to  spend  it.  I  get  seventy- 
five  dollars  a  month  and  board,  and  no  where  to  spend 
my  money.  Stranger,  take  }*our  horse  and  cow  and  turn 
them  into  the  grass,  give  them  their  dinner  and  come  in 


BEOWAWE.  129 


and  take  dinner  with  me,  and  when  you  get  home,  you 
can  say  that  you  dined  with  John  Briggs,  of  Shoshone, 
formerly  of  New  York  city."  I  did  not  wait  for  a  second 
invitation.  Our  dinner  consisted  of  bacon  and  eggs, 
bread,  butter  and  coffee  ;  you  will  remember  I  have  always 
milk  with  me.  After  dinner  we  talked  awhile,  his  China 
men  went  to  work.  I  inquired  the  distance  to  the  next 
station.  He  replied,  "It  is  ten  miles  to  Beowawe. 
About  a  mile  from  here  take  the  right  trail,  leading  you 
over  the  mountain,  it  is  a  less  distance,  and  you  will  not 
have  to  ford  the  river,  which  is  more  mud  than  water."  I 
left  him  with  good  wishes  and  went  on.  On  coming  to 
the  trail  I  hesitated  whether  to  go  over  the  mountain  or 
ford  the  river,  but  concluded  to  cross  the  mountain. 
When  about  half  way  up  I  stopped,  I  left  my  horse  and 
went  to  the  top,  came  back  and  said  to  the  horse,  "Fanny, 
can  }'ou  get  up  this  hill  with  your  load  ;  it  is  a  hard  pull, 
but  let  us  try."  We  went  about  four  rods  further,  then 
halted,  and  then  made  one  more  pull  for  the  top  which  we 
accomplished.  This  saved  some  three  miles  and  we  ran 
no  chances  in  fording  the  river.  The  descending  was 
much  easier ;  making  the  descent  we  cross  the  rail 
road,  and  from  this  crossing  to  the  station  the  road  is 
good.  The  course  of  the  railroad  from  Wadsworth  to 
this  mountain  is  north  by  east.  Then  turning  to  the 
right,  making  three-quarters  of  a  circle,  in  reaching 
Beowawe,  a  distance  of  ten  miles,  where  I  arrived  about 
six  o'clock  in  the  evening. 

Beowawe  I  found  on  arrival  consisted  of  a  depot,  sec 
tion  house  for  the  boss  of  repairs  and  a  Chinaman's  house 
or  shant}*,  and  a  very  respectable  house  for  the  entertain 
ment  of  any  travellers.  I  called  on  the  proprietor  of  this 
house,  introducing:  myself  as  a  traveller  from  the  west, 
bound  east,  saying  "I  would  like  some  hay  for  my  cattle 
and  the  privilege  of  camping  near  by,  will  you  grant  my 


130  BEOWAWE. 


request?"  "I  will,  sir,  with  pleasure."  "That  cow  I  am 
obliged  to  milk  twice  a  day,  will  you  take  the  milk  in  ex 
change  for  something  I  can  eat ;  I  have  plenty  of  milk, 
tea,  coffee,  sugar  and  bread,  but  crave  for  something  dif 
ferent.  I  want  some  cold  meat  and  potatoes,  or  grub  of 
that  kind?"  "Follow  me  with  your  cattle,  I  will  give 
you  a  good  place  for  the  night,  or  you  may  have  a 
bed  in  the  house  if  you  like."  "I  prefer  to  sleep  with  my 
cattle,  should  any  one  come  around  in  the  night  my  horse 
and  dog  tell  me  of  it,  sure."  After  securing  the  cattle  we 
returned  to  the  house,  and  after  a  wash  we  sat  down  to 
supper.  On  being  bade  to  take  a  seat  at  the  table,  the 
landlady  said,  "We  have  no  cold  meats,  but  some  hot 
meats."  "This  is  better  ;  I  asked  for  cold  meat  as  it  is 
much  less  work  to  get  than  hot."  Our  supper  consisted 
of  ham  and  eggs,  hot  biscuits,  butter  and  coffee,  a  first- 
class  supper.  After  supper  the  landlord  said,  "Well, 
stranger,  I  am  anxious  to  learn  your  story,  you  must 
have  something  interesting  to  relate."  "Yes,  I  have,  and 
I  will  tell  you  it  if  you  desire."  "I  do,  very  much." 
"Well,  where  shall  I  begin ;  I  am  from  Eureka  cit}', 
Humboldt  Bay,  California,  three  hundred  and  thirteen 
miles  north  of  San  Francisco,  which  I  left  June  1st,  1882, 
with  a  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog.  We  came  down  to 
San  Jose,  from  there  hereto,  following  the  railroad 
most  of  the  way,  nearly  900  miles.  I  belong  in  Massa 
chusetts,  when  at  home,  and  have  no  other."  "That 
cow  ;  have  you  come  that  distance  with  her?"  "I  have." 
"That  is  ahead  of  anything  of  which  I  ever  heard,  and 
going  to  Massachusetts  ;  you  must  be  crazy,  or  something 
else."  "You  are  right,  we  will  call  it  something  else." 
"But  how  can  the  cow  travel  that  distance,  I  should  sup 
pose  she  would  have  worn  out  her  feet  several  times  ?" 
"My  dear,  sir,  I  have  iron  shoes  on  her  feet,  I  could  not 
have  got  her  along  so  far  had  it  not  been  for  her  shoes." 
"But  how  have  you  got  along  all  alone.  I  should  think 


BEOWAWE.  131 


you  would  have  been  torn  to  pieces  by  the  wild  beasts. 
Have  you  not  been  troubled  with  the  wolves?"  "They 
have  troubled  me  at  nights,  but  not  seriousl}'.  I  have  had 
to  break  camp  several  times  lo  get  rid  of  them.  So  far 
all  right.  In  the  future  I  shall  know  more  about  them. 
How  is  the  road  from  here  to  Carlin?"  "There  are  two 
roads  thereto ;  one  way  is  to  follow  the  railroad,  the 
other  is  to  take  the  old  emigrant  road  over  the  mountain, 
through  the  canyon,  over  the  divide,  down  into  Carlin. 
The  emigrant  trail  is  much  the  nearest,  and  a  good  road 
except  the  canyon,  that  you  will  find  rough,  as  all  can- 
yons  are.  I  thins  you  can  get  through  all  right,  how- 
ever."  "I  make  a  practice  of  starting  early  in  the 
mornings,  so  that  I  can  camp  early  in  the  evening ;  how 
much  shall  I  pay  you  for  the  hay  for  my  cattle?"  "Hay, 
for  your  cattle,  I  would  not  be  guilty  of  charging  you  for 
hay  or  anything  else.  A  man  that  has  set  out  on  such  a 
journey  ;  why,  I  feel  that  all  on  your  road  ought  to  feed 
you  and  your  cattle  ;  such  an  undertaking.  I  will  go 
down  with  }rou  and  look  at  your  cattle ;  come,  wife,  go 
with  us.  You  have  a  fine  looking  cow,  and  so  is  your 
horse.  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  get  home  all  safe  and 
sound  ;  as  yet  you  have  but  just  started.  Do  you  ever 
take  anything  strong?"  "Yes,  I  like  good  strong  coffee." 
"Yes,  so  do  I,  but  I  mean  something  else."  "So  do  I." 
"Go  back  to  the  house  with  me."  I  went  with  him. 
"Here,  stranger,  take  this  ;  it  is  good  bourbon,  there  will 
be  times  when  it  will  do  you  good,  at  any  rate  you  will 
think  of  us."  "Yes,  I  shall  often  think  of  you."  On 
leaving  me  he  said,  "The  freight  train  from  the  east  is 
due  soon,  and  often  tramps  are  put  off  the  train  who  are 
stealing  a  ride.  If  they  trouble  you,  call  out  and  we  will 
come  to  your  help.  Good-night,  stranger."  "Good 
night,  landlord." 

I  left  Beowawe  on  the  morning  of  the  9th.     I  was 


132  CARLTN. 


awakened  by  a  passing  train  from  the  west,  and  on  get 
ting  up  I  found  it  was  a  little  past  three  o'clock.  I  fed 
my  cattle  and  got  ready  for  an  onward  move  ;  it  was  four 
when  I  started  for  Carlin.  The  first  part  of  the  road  was 
on  the  river  side,  which  soon  I  had  to  ford,  a  good  grav 
elly  bottom.  After  journeying  about  a  mile  I  came  to  a 
fine  Eastern  built  house.  A  half  mile  beyond  there  were 
many  horses  feeding  by  the  road.  After  passing  them, 
they  fell  in  my  rear  and  continued  to  follow  me  ;  I  at 
tempted  to  drive  them  back,  but  they  took  no  notice 
either  of  me  or  my  dog,  whom  I  set  on  them.  They  kept 
following  close  behind  the  cow,  which  annoj'ed  her.  I 
thought  it  best  to  turn  back  to  the  house,  this  being  the 
best  way  to  get  rid  of  them.  I  returned,  they  following 
me,  and  drove  up  to  the  house,  but  could  not  see  any  one 
around,  so  I  called  out  loud  and  strong.  This  brought 
a  man  to  the  door.  I  told  the  man  I  was  travelling  East 
and  in  passing  nearly  two  hours  ago,  those  horses  fell  in 
my  rear,  I  tried  to  drive  them  back  but  could  not,  so  I  had 
returned  with  them  as  I  did  not  know  how  far  they  would 
go  with  me,  thinking  best  to  get  rid  of  them.  "Well, 
stranger,  I  am  sorry  they  have  given  you  this  trouble. 
How  far  are  }TOU  travelling?"  UI  belong  East,  in  Massa 
chusetts."  "That  is  my  home  also."  "What  part  of 
Massachusetts  is  your  home?"  Tasked.  "Fall  River  was 
my  home  ;  where  are  }Tou  from  with  this  outfit?"  "I  am 
from  California,  more  than  three  hundred  miles  north  of 
San  Francisco."  "You  have  come  a  long  distance,  and 
led  that  cow  all  that  way?"  "Yes,  sir."  "That  beats 
the  d — 1  all  hollow."  "How  is  the  road  from  here  to 
Carlin?"  "Most  of  the  way  is  good — you  will  find  it 
rough  through  the  canyon.  I  came  through  a  few  days 
ago  on  horseback,  there  is  no  trouble  travelling  that  way. 
You  have  a  wagon,  it  will  be  hard  for  you  to  get  through 
with  it.  There  are  some  washouts,  but  you  will  be  able 
to  get  over  them.  Stop  and  get  some  breakfast  with  us, 


CARLIN.  133 


I 


we  are  late  this  morning,  but  it  will  be  reacty  soon.  I  will 
give  your  horse  some  oats/'  "I  will  stop  for  the  grain 
for  my  cattle  as  they  need  it.  I  think  a  great  deal  of  the 
cattle  and  have  to  take  great  care  of  them,  or  I  shall  not 
be  able  to  get  them  through  this  tramp."  "Go  in  and 
get  a  dish  of  coffee.  By  the  way,  will  }~ou  take  something 
that  will  help  you  along?"  "Yes,  I  will,  there  is  nothing- 
better  than  a  good  cup  of  coffee,  and  I  want  nothing 
more.  It  is  just  what  I  need  this  morning,  anything  else 
would  be  out  of  place."  I  had  breakfast  with  them,  it  was 
a  good  one,  and  with  strangers  from  my  own  State  of 
Massachusetts.  It  was  seven  o'clock  as  we  bade  each 
other  good-bye,  he  hoping  that  I  would  get  through  my 
journey  all  right.  It  was  not  very  long  before  I  was  at 
the  top  of  the  mountain  ;  there  was  a  fine  landscape  be 
fore  me.  To  my  right  I  could  see  a  long  distance,  a  vast 
plain,  nothing  to  hinder  or  obstruct  my  view.  Some 
smoke  in  the  distance  attracted  my  attention  ;  it  was  from 
an  engine  and  was  travelling  from  me,  as  it  gradually 
went  out  of  sight.  I  pulled  from  my  box  a  map  of  the 
Central  Pacific  Railroad,  and  found  that  it  was  the  express 
train  from  Palisade  to  Eureka.  I  drove  down  the  moun 
tain  to  its  base  and  came  to  a  trail  that  led  to  my  right. 
I  concluded  this  trail  took  me  to  Palisade,  while  my  left 
led  to  Carlin,  which  I  took.  I  travelled  up  grade  about 
a  mile  to  the  canyon ;  the  first  of  the  mile  was  good,  but 
the  latter  hard  and  rough.  I  was  obliged  to  stop  on  com 
ing  to  a  bad  washout  and  said  to  the  horse,  "Fanny, 
what  do  3Tou  think  of  this,  we  can't  get  over  this  ditch,  it 
is  too  big  !"  I  left  my  team  and  went  on  to  see  in  what 
condition  was  the  remainder  of  the  canyon.  Should  it 
prove  as  bad  or  worse,  I  would  not  attempt  its  passage, 
but  return  and  go  to  Palisade.  I  did  not  find  anything 
worse ;  on  my  left  I  found  water  that  evidently  came 
from  the  Emigrant  Springs,  which  are  situated  at  the  head 
of  the  canyon,  which  was  as  far  as  I  went.  I  turned 


134  CARLIN. 


back  to  were  I  had  left  my  outfit,  and  found  that  they  had 
got  other  company.  They  had  been  joined  by  a  band  of 
gj'psies,  with  two  large  covered  wagons,  drawn  by  four 
horses  each.  They  saluted  me  as  I  came  up,  saying 
"Stranger,  you  all  alone?"  "I  am  not  all  alone,  I  have 
just  received  company  from  the  west;  two  teams  of 
g}'psies."  I  remember  passing  these  teams  at  Reno, 
some  two  weeks  ago.  "Well,  stranger,  how  does  it  look 
to  you?"  "To  me,  it  looks  rough  and  tough ;  when  I 
came  to  this  ditch  I  stopped  and  then  made  an  inspection 
of  the  road  to  the  springs,  and  find  this  the  worst  part." 
"Can  we  get  through,  or  shall  we  have  to  go  back  and  go 
by  the  way  of  Palisade?"  "Here  is  the  worst  place 
to  get  over,  especially  with  }Tour  wagons,  as  they  are 
much  larger  than  mine.  We  can  get  across,  but  it  will 
take  some  engineering ;  there  are  five  of  us,  beside  the 
women  and  children."  My  plan  was  to  take  out  the 
horses  and  lead  them  across  the  gulch,  then  slide  the 
wagons  into  the  gulch,  running  them  up  the  opposite  side 
of  the  bank  as  high  as  we  could,  then  by  putting  all  the 
power  we  could  and  lifting  in  the  rear,  drag  the  wagons 
out  of  the  washout,  which  we  did  after  considerable 
engineering,  hard  labor  and  patience.  Having  done  this 
successful!}7,  the  remainder  of  the  canyon  was  only  rough 
and  stony.  The  gypsies  said,  "I  had  done  them  a  great 
kindness,  and  that  I  understood  this  kind  of  business  and 
must  be  a  Yankee,  and  where  was  I  from?"  I  answered, 
"That  I  was  a  Yankee,  from  California  and  was  going  to 
Massachusetts."  "We  have  heard  often  of  the  Yankees, 
but  never  saw  one  before  ;  we  are  from  California,  but 
our  home  is  in  Salt  Lake  city."  "Then  you  are  Mormons, 
I  have  often  heard  of  that  people ;  what  horrid  people 
they  are.  If  you  are  Mormons,  I  would  risk  itself  with 
them  at  any  time."  "You  need  not  be  afraid  of  us,  and 
we  shall  remember  you  as  long  as  we  remember  this  can 
yon.  We  have  some  good  whisky  in  our  wagon,  which  I 


CARLIN.  135 


think  was  made  for  this  time  and  occasion,  will  you  have 
a  taste?"  "Well,  I  seldom  ever  take  any,  but  if  you 
wish  me,  I  will  at  this  time  and  occasion.  Should  I  ever 
make  a  record  of  this,  which  I  think  I  shall  at  some 
future  time,  and  }'ou  happen  to  see  it,  you  will  remember 
the  whole  story.  It  is  getting  late,  we  must  be  going  on 
further."  So  we  moved  on,  I  leading  the  van  ;  with  my 
light  team  I  could  travel  faster  than  they  with  their  large, 
top-heavy  wagons,  which  would  rock  to  and  fro  like  a 
ship  at  sea.  It  was  about  half-past  ten  o'clock  when  we 
got  to  the  washout  and  it  was  three  o'clock  as  we  left. 
When  we  reached  the  springs  just  out  of  the  can}*on,  we 
camped  for  dinner.  After  eating  and  resting  we  again 
moved  on  and  gained  the  top  of  the  mountain.  We  were 
delighted  with  the  view,  the  surroundings  were  grand  and 
imposing.  We  reached  Carlin  just  as  the  sun  was  setting 
from  our  view.  I  at  once  made  for  the  hotel  and  inquired 
for  the  proprietor.  A  person  answered,  "I  am  the  man 
of  the  house."  I  requested  him  to  go  to  the  stable  and 
see  my  outfit,  and  said  "I  am  a  traveller,  just  from  Cali 
fornia,  with  the  outfit  you  see.  The  cow  is  a  fresh  cow 
and  I  milk  her  twice  a  day  ;  she  is  a  fine  cow  and  gives 
good  milk,  and  I  think  so  much  of  her  that  I  am  taking 
her  along  with  me.  She  supplies  much  more  milk  than  I 
can  use,  so  will  you  take  the  milk  in  exchange  for  some 
thing  that  I  have  not  got.  This  is  my  way  of  introduc 
tion,  will  you  excuse  me,  landlord?"  "Yes,  sir ;  with 
pleasure.  I  saw  an  account  of  }TOU  in  the  Reno  papers,  a 
few  days  ago.  Then  you  are  the  man  that  is  going  to 
Massachusetts?"  "I  am,  sir."  "Come  in  and  take  sup 
per  with  us,  it  shall  not  cost  3^011  anything.  Milk  your 
cow  and  bring  the  milk  in,  she  looks  as  though  she  gave 
good  milk,  and  we  will  try  it."  "Where  can  I  camp,  I 
sleep  with  my  cattle?"  "Take  them  into  the  yard  where 
those  stacks  of  hay  are  and  let  them  eat  all  they  can.  If 
you  prefer  to  sleep  with  }rour  cattle,  you  can ;  it  is  a  good 


136  CARLIN. 


place  and  you  will  be  safe  there."  I  drove  into  the  yard, 
gave  the  cattle  water  and  allowed  them  to  eat  as  much 
hay  as  they  would.  I  milked  the  cow  and  gave  the  milk 
'to  the  landlord,  he  in  return  gave  me  a  good  supper. 
"You  say  that  you  are  going  East;  you  have  a  long 
journey  before  you,  do  you  think  }TOU  can  make  that  jour 
ney  as  old  as  3*011  are?"  "Why  not ;  I  am  not  loo  old. 
It  takes  a  man  so  old  to  accomplish  it."  "I  see  you  are 
the  man  for  it.  A  young  man  would  back  out  before  he 
got  half  the  distance  }'ou  have  alread}r  made.  What  little 
1  have  learned  of  you,  unless  sickness  or  accident  hap 
pens,  you  are  the  man  to  make  it  a  success."  I  told  him 
that  I  should  leave  him  early  in  the  morning  and  thanked 
him  for  his  hospitality,  and  that  should  he  ever  come  to 
Massachusetts,  to  remember  me  and  my  horse,  carriage 
and  cow  and  come  to  Webster,  and  we  bade  each  other 
good-night,  he  wishing  me  success. 

On  the  morning  of  the  10th  I  left  Carlin  for  Elko,  a 
distance  of  twenty-three  miles.  Leaving  Carlin  I  crossed 
the  railroad  and  travelled  on  its  left  for  a  distance  of  ten 
miles,  when  I  recross  the  railroad  to  my  right,  down  on  to 
a  flat  plat  of  mowing  land,  which  brings  me  to  the  river 
that  I  had  to  ford.  .  It  is  now  a  fine  trail.  I  came  to  a 
house,  which  was  a  poor,  shanty  and  knocked  at  the  door 
but  no  one  answered.  I  then  went  to  the  barn,  which 
was  much  better  than  the  house,  but  could  see  no  one 
around.  I  stopped  and  made  a  fire,  fed  the  cattle,  and 
got  myself  a  breakfast  of  boiled  eggs  and  coffee.  After 
breakfast  I  travelled  about  a  half  mile  but  could  not  find 
a  trail.  I  was  on  the  right  of  the  river,  close  to  its  bank, 
but  could  see  no  place  to  ford,  on  the  right  was  a  high 
bluff  rising  from  the  river.  I  was  completely  shut  in. 
I  returned  to  the  house  again  but  could  find  no  one 
around,  then  I  retraced  my  way  back  to  the  railroad.  On 
crossing  the  railroad  I  saw  some  men  at  work  a  short 


ELKO.  137 


distance  away.  I  looked  around  for  a  place  to  hitch  my 
horse,  but  could  see  no  tree  or  shrub,  so  I  took  the  horse 
from  the  carriage  and  fastened  her  to  the  wheel.  I  then 
left  them  and  was  just  getting  on  the  track  to  go  to  the 
men,  when  I  saw  a  band  of  Indians  coming  down  the 
bluff  on  horseback  ;  there  were  eighteen  of  them,  and  were 
about  twenty  rods  away  from  me.  I  called  out  to  them  to 
stop ;  two  of  them  rode  up  to  me  and  I  saluted  them, 
which  they  returned.  I  told  them  that  I  had  come  from 
Carlin  and  was  going  to  Elko,  but  had  lost  my  trail ;  I 
had  been  to  that  shanty  but  could  not  find  the  trail. 
"Here  is  the  trail  to  Elko,"  said  the  Indian.  I  should 
not  have  crossed  the  railroad,  but  have  followed  it  a 
short  distance  further  and  then  crossed.  I  put  the  horse 
into  the  shafts  again  and  went  on,  travelling  on  the  left 
of  both  river  and  railroad.  About  a  mile  further  I  came 
to  a  dry  canyon.  In  passing  through,  I  counted  twenty- 
two  dead  animals,  no  doubt  frozen  and  starved  to  death. 
When  in  Elko  I  spoke  of  this  fact,  and  was  told  that  it 
was  nothing  ;  thousands  of  cattle  were  frozen  every  win 
ter.  Go  into  the  canyons  in  the  months  of  June  and 
July,  you  could  not  bear  the  stench  from  these  dead 
creatures.  I  am  now  journeying  where  it  is  necessary 
and  we  are  commanded  to  open  and  shut  gates  in  cross 
ing  the  railroads.  This  command  I  always  comply  with. 
I  am  travelling  on  the  river,  running  between  Carlin  and 
Elko.  I  have  to  open  and  shut  gates  as  the  trail  runs 
from  pasture  to  pasture.  Many  times  I  am  tempted  to 
cut  the  wires  which  fence  them  in,  but  I  dare  not,  as  I 
might  be  followed  and  made  to  smart  for  so  doing.  I  am 
passing  through  fine  fields  of  clover,  of  which  I  allow  my 
cattle  to  eat  as  the}^  go,  it  is  such  a  change  from  the  dr}7, 
barren  canyons  and  roads  I  have  just  left.  Those  that 
journey  on  wheels  have  to  make  their  own  trail,  which 
was  bad  for  me  as  my  carriage  was  light  and  was  very 
trying  to  myself  and  horse.  I  arrived  at  Elko  just  as  the 


138  ELKO. 


freight  train  came  in  at  half-past  five  o'clock.  I  went  for 
the  hotel  at  once  and  sought  out  the  proprietor,  whom  I 
found  and  telling  him  my  story,  said,  "My  cow  is  a  fine 
animal,  gives  good  milk  and  a  large  quantity.  I  ain 
short  of  money  and  obliged  to  make  what  little  I  have  go 
a  long  way,  will  you  take  milk  in  exchange  for  food?" 
"I  will,  sir,  with  pleasure.  You  are  the  man  for  whom  I 
have  been  looking  for  some  days.  I  read  in  a  Reno  paper 
and  also  in  a  Battle  Mountain  paper,  that  a  man  from 
California  with  a  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog  was  on  his 
way  east,  and  you  are  the  man,  I  suppose?"  "I  am,  sir." 
"You  are  a  pluck}?-  man,  you  ought  to  be  following  a  band 
of  music,  with  all  the  people  in  your  rear.  Why,  stran 
ger,  3rou  do  not  look  like  a  crazy  man,  you  do  not,  surety. 
The  world  moves  on,  and  we  read  that  there  is  nothing 
new  under  the  sun,  but  that  is  a  mistake.  They  did  not 
have  such  men  as  you  in  those  days, -you  bet.  Well, 
stranger,  I  am  going  to  give  your  cattle  a  good  supper, 
write  that  down."  "I  will,  sir,  with  pleasure."  Supper 
was  soon  ready  and  he  conducted  me  to  the  table  and  told 
me  to  take  a  seat.  "But,  landlord,  I  do  not  care  to  take 
this  seat,  it  is  too  conspicuous."  "Not  so,  I  propose  to 
introduce  you  to  my  family  and  guests."  The  bell  rang 
for  supper  and  when  all  had  come  in  and  taken  their  seats, 
the  landlord  introduced  me  as  follows  :  "Ladies  and  gen 
tlemen,  it  is  with  pleasure  I  introduce  you  to  a  gentleman 
from  California,  travelling  with  a  horse,  carriage,  cow  and 
dog  East,  to  Massachusetts."  After  enjoying  a  hearty 
supper  I  was  questioned  by  his  family  and  guests,  asking 
what  part  of  California  I  was  from,  which  way  did  I  come 
and  how  did  I  get  along  with  the  Indians  and  the  wild  an 
imals  and  so  on.  The  landlord  commanded  his  man  to 
take  the  cattle  to  the  barn  and  feed  them  with  all  the 
hay  and  grain  they  could  eat.  By  this  time  quite  a  crowd 
had  gathered -about  me  and  many  were  the  questions  put 
to  me.  I  made  excuse  to  the  man  of  sickness  and  would 


ELKO.  139 


like  to  lay  down.  He  told  me  to  take  some  hay  and  make 
a  bed  for  myself,  which  I  did  and  laid  down  for  a  while. 
I  then  got  up  and  milked  and  when  about  finishing  milk 
ing  the  landlord  came  to  me  and  I  handed  him  the  pail, 
saying,  "Here  is  the  milk  that  I  have  just  taken  from  this 
California  cow,  that  I  think  so  much  of."  He  told  John, 
his  man,  to  take  it  to  his  wife  and  put  it  on  ice  and  when 
cool  he  would  have  a  drink  of  it.  "Stranger,  won't  you 
go  in  the  house  and  sta}r  to-night,  it  will  cost  3^011  no  more 
and  give  you  a  good  rest?"  "Landlord,  I  thank  you 
kindly  ;  but  prefer  to  sleep  with  my  cattle."  "All  right, 
suit  yourself."  "I  want  to  leave  about  sunrise  to-mor 
row  morning."  He  turned  to  John,  his  man,  and  told 
him  to  get  up  early  and  feed  the  cattle  and  give  them  a 
heavy  feed  that  night.  I  thanked  him  for  his  great  hos 
pitality,  had  received  much  on  my  journey,  but  his  exceed 
ed  all  others.  He  replied,  "I  was  welcome,  and  if  he  was 
in  my  place  he  would  like  the  same  treatment.  You  had 
better  stop  and  get  a  good  breakfast  before  leaving,  it 
will  help  you  along  wonderfully.  Come  in  the  house 
about  four  o'clock  and  we'll  have  something  hot  for  you, 
a  bit  of  steak  and  a  dish  of  hot  coffee,  it  will  do 
you  good." 

Elko  I  left  about  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  jour 
neyed  to  Halleck  station,  a  distance  of  twenty-four  miles. 
I  arose  early,  as  was  my  custom,  and  made  all  the  pre 
parations  for  the  day  before  any  one  was  up.  I  called 
John,  the  man,  to  feed  my  cattle  and  to  get  the  cook  to 
make  breakfast  while  I  was  milking.  This  being  done  I 
carried  the  milk  into  the  kitchen  and  then  breakfast  was 
ready.  While  I  was  eating,  the  landlord  came  in  and 
bade  me  good  morning  and  said,  "You  are  about  to 
leave  us.  I  am  glad  you  have  made  so  much  of  }~our 
journey  safely,  but  you  have  a  long  distance  to  make  yet." 
"Yes,  sir,  I  am  aware  of  the  fact."  "Cook,  put  this  man  up 


140  PEKO. 


something  for  dinner,  and  here  is  something  that  will 
help  you  along."  "Landlord,  please  give  me  your  name?" 
"My  name  is  landlord,  that  is  enough.  I  do  not  want  to 
see  my  name  in  print,  it  will  not  look  well.  Stranger, 
success  to  you.  Good  morning."  I  made  ready  and 
started  for  the  day's  journey,  feeling  in  excellent  spirits  ; 
but  learned  the  landlord's  name  before  I  left,  as  I  thought 
I  might  want  to  write  to  him  after  getting  home.  It  was 
a  bright,  lovely  morning.  About  half-past  eight  o'clock 
the  freight  train  for  the  west  passed  me,  and  at  nine 
o'clock  we  came  to  Osino  station.  I  made  a  short  stop, 
giving  the  cattle  water  and  grain  ;  after  feeding  I  contin 
ued  on  my  journey,  our  road  being  heavy  and  sandy  with 
sage  bushes  on  either  side.  At  noon  I  stopped  for  a 
short  rest  and  rations  for  the  cattle  and  then  journeyed 
on  until  three,  when  I  arrived  at  Peko  station.  Here  I 
stopped,  giving  the  cattle  the  remainder  of  the  water  in 
my  cans  and  feeding  them,  and  to  make  a  dinner  for  my 
self  made  a  fire  to  do  my  cooking.  As  I  was  leaving,  the 
freight  train  from  the  east  passed  and  at  six  o'clock  I 
reached  Hallocks  station.  The  surroundings  at  this 
station  I  did  not  like.  I  gave  my  cattle  water  and  went 
on,  taking  the  trail  that  led  to  the  right  and.  followed  it 
until  I  came  to  a  house,  which  I  found  untenanted,  so  I 
journeyed  on  still  further  and  came  to  another  house 
where  I  found  the  people  at  home,  and  asked  "If  I  could 
stop  there  for  the  night,  I  having  come  from  Elko  and 
myself  and  cattle  were  very  tired?"  "Yes,  stranger,  3Tou 
can,  I  like  the  sound  of  your  voice.  It  is  Eastern,  if  I 
am  not  mistaken  ;  }*ou  are  or  have  been  an  Eastern  man.'' 
"I  am.  Will  my  cattle  do  any  harm  to  let  them  in  to 
those  stacks  of  hay  and  let  them  eat  all  they  want?" 
"You  can  let  them  in  there  and  they  can  have  all  they 
need."  I  led  them  into  the  }7ard  and  turned  them  loose  ; 
the  horse  took  to  rolling  and  the  cow  to  the  grass.  The 
man  of  the  house  asked  me  in,  saying  he  had  a  wife  and 


HALLECKS.  141 


two  children  and  had  many  questions  to  ask  me.  So  I 
went  into  the  house  and  he  said,  "Wife,  this  stranger  is 
going  to  stop  with  us  to-night,  get  him  some  supper  while 
I  ask  him  some  questions."  "No  Sam,  wait  till  he  has 
had  his  supper,  then  we  all  will  listen,"  answered  the 
wife.  So  as  soon  as  the  supper  was  ready  we  all  gathered 
around  the  table  and  partook  of  a  hearty  meal.  The 
man  of  the  house  asked  for  my  story,  where  I  was  from 
and  where  going.  I  answered,  sa}'ing,  "WelLfriend,  I 
have  come  from  California,  more  than  three  hundred  miles 
north  of  San  Francisco,  having  left  Eureka  city,  June  1st, 
following  the  railroad  most  of  the  way  and  have  travelled 
more  than  a  thousand  miles  already."  "What,  and 
brought  that  cow  that  distance?"  "Yes,  just  as  I  am, 
horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog."  "And  where  are  you  go 
ing  to,  I  would  like  to  know?"  "Well,  friend,  I  belong 
in  Massachusetts,  and  am  going  there  ;  that  is  my  inten 
tion."  "Well,  stranger,  ain't  you  a  little  crazy?"  "You 
are  not  the  first  that  has  thought  me  so,  but  as  yet  I  am 
all  right."  "Well,  well ;  what  a  long  journey  before  you, 
and  3'ou  think  }7ou  can  make  this  journey ;  how  many 
miles  will  you  have  to  travel  to  make  it?"  "About  four 
thousand,  perhaps  a  little  more."  "Why,  that  cow  can't 
stand  it;  she  will  wear  off  her  feet  and  legs."  "But, 
friend,  she  has  on  her  feet  iron  shoes,  and  so  has  the 
horse.  So  far,  the  cow  has  stood  the  journey  the  best." 
"I  did  not  think  she  was  shod,  and  should  not  wonder 
that  the  cow  did  stand  it  best;  does  she  give  milk?" 
"Yes,  I  milk  her  twice  a  day  ;  I  have  milked  her  three, 
and  once  four  times  a  day,  and  have  sold  milk  all  along 
for  fifty  cents  a  gallon  to  the  station  agents.  When  I 
have  sold  on  the  trains  I  have  got  twenty  cents  a  quart. 
When  I  came  through  Reno,  where  I  got  the  cow  shod,  I 
was  obliged  to  stop  four  days,  as  she  was  lame  from  the 
shoeing.  This  was  her  first  shoeing  and  as  she  had  trav 
elled  more  than  seven  hundred  miles  her  feet  were  very 


142  HALLECKS. 


much  worn,  and  putting  on  the  iron  shoes  contracted  her 
feet,  causing  the  lameness.  The  blacksmith  told  me  not  to 
take  off  her  shoes,  and  the  soreness  would  wear  away ; 
she  could  not  have  travelled  much  further  without  shoe 
ing,  so  I  stopped  over.  The  four  da}Ts  I  was  at  Reno  I 
sold  over  seven  dollars'  worth  of  milk,  so  you  can  easily 
see  that  she  is  worth  something  on  the  road."  "What 
part  of  Massachusetts  are  you  going  to?"  "The  town  of 
Webster,  Worcester  county."  "I  am  from  the  State  of 
New  York,  so  you  see  I  also  come  from  the  East." 
"What  brought  you  out  here?"  "Oh,  I  came  out  here  to 
get  rich  by  raising  cattle."  "You  have  got  rich,  I  sup 
pose?"  "Well,  I  am  not  rich,  but  I  can  make  more 
money  by  raising  cattle  than  I  could  by  raising  corn  in 
Nebraska.  We  can  grow  potatoes  and  small  grain,  but 
no  corn  ;  we  can  cut  an}'  quantity  of  hay.  You  see  those 
four  stacks,  there  are  eighty  tons  of  hay  in  them."  "How 
many  cattle  have  you?"  "I  have  thirty-six  head  on  my 
own  ranche.  There  are  three  of  us,  each  having  a  ranche, 
about  one  hundred  head  of  cattle  in  all."  "Do  you  feed 
your  cattle  in  the  winter?"  "Oh,  yes  ;  we  do  not  intend 
to  have  them  freeze  to  death.  We  give  them  shelter  and 
feed  with  hay.  We  do  not  have  such  barns  as  you  have 
down  East,  as  lumber  is  too  costly.  We  have  long  sheds 
fronting  to  the  south,  boarded  on  the  north  side  and  ends, 
about  twelve  feet  wide  and  seven  feet  high,  covered  with 
straw.  This  gives  our  cattle  a  good,  comfortable  shelter 
in  a  storm  and  breaks  the  cold  wind.  This  mode  is  an 
improvement  of  our  own,  and  there  are  but  few  in  the 
State  like  ours."  "Friend,  it  is  now  about  time  to  milk 
my  cow,  can  you  let  me  have  a  pail  and  I  will  go  and 
milk  her  and  give  them  some  water  and  grain."  "I  will 
go  with  you,  we  have  plenty  of  good  water."  While  I  was 
milking  my  host  came  with  two  pails  of  grain  for  my 
cattle.  This  was  wholly  unexpected.  I  gave  the  grain 
to  the  cattle  and  then  carried  the  milk  into  the  house,  giv- 


HALLECKS.  143 


ing  it  to  the  wife,  when  she  remarked  :  "Sammy,  what  a 
lot  of  milk  his  cow  gives,  more  than  all  ours  put  together. 
Well,  stranger,  I  suppose  you  would  like  to  go  to  bed 
soon?"  "Yes,  I  feel  as  though  I  would  like  some  rest." 
"Any  time  when  you  are  ready  I  will  show  you  your 
room."  "But,  friends,  I  always  sleep  with  my  cattle  ;  I 
have  had  good  beds  offered  me,  but  I  always  decline  them. 
I  dare  not  leave  my, cattle  ;  should  some  one  borrow  them 
I  fear  they  would  not  return  them  in  season.  I  carry  my 
bedding,  make  the  cow  fast  to  one  wheel  and  the  horse  to 
the  opposite  and  myself  and  dog  lay  between  them. 
Many  nights  I  have  been  awakened  by  the  snorting  of  my 
horse.  I  always  keep  my  lantern  burning.  Many  times 
I  have  been  awakened  by  the  wolves  around  me,  but  as 
yet  have  come  to  no  harm.  To-morrow  I  would  like  to 
reach  Wells,  what  is  the  distance?"  "Wells  is  about 
thirty  miles  from  here  ;  3^011  can  not  travel  to  Wells  in  one 
day,  can  you?"  "I  travel  about  two  and  a  half  miles  an 
hour,  day  and  night  if  I  wish  ;  sometimes  I  crowd  three 
miles  into  an  hour  and  some  times  only  two,  but  I  aver 
age  the  two  and  a  half  miles.  I  suppose  I  am  not  far 
from  the  river?"  "The  river  is  north  of  us,  about  a  half 
mile,  and  a  half  mile  from  here  }TOU  ford  the  river,  then 
there  is  a  good  road  to  Wells."  "I  must  reach  Wells  to 
morrow.  I  can  travel  that  distance  in  fifteen  hours,  with 
stops,  and  should  like  to  start  at  six  o'clock.  If  you 
make  a  good  fire  I  will  take  advantage  of  it  and  make  my 
self  some  coffee.  I  have  some  good,  that  I  brought  with 
me  from  San  Francisco,  so  you  see  what  I  carry  with  me. 
Well,  friends,  I  will  go  to  bed  with  my  cattle."  "Stran 
ger,  you  had  better  sleep  in  the  house,  it  looks  like  a  cold, 
frosty  night;  your  cattle  will  be  safe."  "You  do  not 
know  that.  When  coining  through  Hallecks  I  intended  to 
have  stopped  there  over  night,  but  things  did  not  suit  me, 
so  I  came  on  here.  Perhaps  some  of  those  I  saw  ma}T 
follow  me ;  I  have  been  advised  to  look  sharp  after  my 


144  HALLECKS. 


cattle."  So  lighting  my  lantern  I  left  them  for  the  night 
and  went  to  my  quarters,  securing  the  cattle  for  the  night 
and  laid  down  for  sleep. 

I  left  the  ranche  at  Hallecks  on  the  12th  and  reached 
Wells  on  the  13th,  a  distance  of  about  thirty  miles.  It 
was  about  break  of  day  as  I  awoke  from  my  sleep  and 
got  up  and  gave  the  cattle  their  liberty  to  eat  hay  or  grass 
as  they  choose,  and  then  went  back  to  bed  again.  It  was 
a  cold  and  frosty  morning.  After  a  little  while  the  owner 
of  the  ranche  came  out  to  me  saying.  "Well,  stranger, 
did  3*ou  sleep  well,  and  could  you  keep  warm  during  the 
night?"  "I  did,  sir."  'It  is  a  cold,  frosty  morning,  come 
into  the  house,  I  have  a  good  fire ;  your  cattle  are  all  right 
and  doing  well,  go  in."  I  took  my  lunch  basket  and  went 
into  the  house  ;  the  lady  was  making  the  breakfast  ready. 
While  this  was  g-ing  on,  I  went  out  and  greased  my 
wagon,  which  I  do  every  other  day.  As  I  was  returning 
t  >  the  house  I  met  my  friend  with  two  pails  of  grain  which 
he  gave  me  for  my  cattle.  After  breakfast  I  prepared  t> 
leave  and  turning  to  them,  said  "Friends,  what  can  I 
say  to  3*ou  for  your  hospitality  ;  I  shall  ever  gratefully  re 
member  you  :  good  morning."  "Good  morning  ;  success 
to  you,  I  trust  you  will  get  along  all  right.  I  should  like 
to  hear  how  }rou  get  along  on  your  journey."  It  was  just 
half- past  five  o'clock  as  I  left  the  ranche.  After  travel 
ling  about  a  mile  I  came  to  the  river  which  I  successfully 
forded.  My  road  now  lies  between  the  railroad  and  the 
river,  the  latter  on  my  right.  It  is  a  fine  morning,  a  fine 
trail  and  we  are  all  feeling  finely.  Shortly  we  shall  leave 
this  long  alkalic  desert.  About  half-past  six  the  express 
train  we  met  and  at  eleven  o'clock  we  came  to  a  stop.  It 
was  where  I  could  get  down  to  the  river  to  water  my 
catttle.  Here  I  made  my  dinner  ;  while  we  were  resting 
the  emigrant  train  from  the  west  passed  by,  the  hands 
on  the  train  saluting  us,  as  they  still  remembered  me  and 


WELLS.  145 


my  outfit,  and  at  one  o'clock  resumed  the  journey  towards 
Wells,  and  at  half-past  two  we  came  to  the  river  once 
more,  that  had  to  be  forded  again  and  for  the  last  time^  I 
had  been  informed.  I  have  followed  this  river,  right  and 
left,  for  more  than  three  hundred  miles,  crossing  and  re- 
crossing  many  times,  and  only  once  on  a  bridge.  This 
ford  looked  a  nast}r  one,  with  only  about  thirty  feet  of 
water  to  cross,  the  rest  appeared  to  be  all  mud.  I  got  on 
to  the  carriage  and  spoke  to  the  horse,  saying,  ' 'Fanny, 
this  is  a  nasty,  muddy  hole,  but  we  have  got  to  cross, 
so  let  us  try  it."  We  went  down  the  bank  into  the  mud, 
the  horse  sinking  up  to  her  knees  at  every  step  and  on 
getting  to  the  water  there  was  good  stepping,  as  we 
were  then  on  a  sunken  bridge.  Here  I  stopped  to  let  the 
cattle  drink  all  they  needed,  and  having  drank  all  they 
would,  I  spoke  to  the  horse  saying,  "Fanny t  go  on." 
After  stepping  about  eight  or  ten  feet  she  left  the  bridge, 
got  into  the  mud  and  floundered  over,  breaking  both  of 
her  thugs,  and  bringing  me  and  the  dashboard  face  down 
wards  into  the  mud  and  water,  leaving  the  carriage,  cow 
and  dog  in  the  creek.  I  was  a  muddj^  fellow,  you  bet. 
My  thoughts  quickly  comprehended  my  situation  ;  here  I 
was,  far  from  any  help  and  nothing  to  get  my  carriage 
out  of  the  creek  with.  What  to  do,  was  the  question  ;  I 
want  two  ropes  about  thirty  feet  long.  First,  I  detached 
the  cow  and  the  dog  from  the  carriage,  then  unloaded  my 
goods  and  secured  my  horse  to  Ji  alder  tree,  let  the  cow 
loose  to  graze  for  herself  and  then  started  for  Wells  for 
some  means  of  extricating  the  wagon  out  of  the  creek. 
I  knew  that  Wells  was  a  large  town  for  that  part  of  the 
world.  The  railroad  was  about  fifteen  rods  to  my  left. 
I  took  the  railroad  and  went  on  travelling,  I  think  about 
four  miles  an  hour.  About  five  o'clock  I  saw  a  man  with 
two  horses  about  a  quarter  of  a  mils  from  the  railroad  and 
went  to  him  ;  he  was  travelling  West,  where  he  did  not 
just  know.  He  had  made  a  fire  and  was  cooking  beans 


146  WELLS. 


for  his  supper.  I  told  him  the  fix  I  had  got  in,  in  cross 
ing  the  river  and  was  on  my  way  to  Wells  for  two  ropes, 
so  that  I  could  hitch  them  on  the  forward  axles  and  make 
them  fast  to  the  tug-buckles,  then  I  thought  my  horse 
would  drag  the  carriage  out  of  the  creek.  He  replied, 
"Stranger,  if  I  had  not  these  beans  cooking,  I  would 
break  camp  and  go  back  to  help  you.  But  I  can  let  you 
have  the  ropes,  the3r  are  on  my  horses,  take  them.  I  can 
hobble  one  of  them,  the  other  will  not  then  go  away  and 
you  need  go  no  further."  I  took  the  ropes  and  went  back, 
finding  all  right  but  the  cow,  she  was  no  where  to  be  seen. 
It  was  dark,  so  that  I  was  not  able  to  see  any  distance. 
For  a  few  moments  I  had  some  peculiar  feelings.  Where 
can  she  be  and  where  gone  ?  On  going  for  the  ropes  I  re 
membered  seeing  a  herd  of  cattle,  so  I  thought  that  she 
might  have  stra}*ed  off  with  them.  I  called  for  her,  "Bes 
sie,  Bessie,"  and  the  horse  would  call  after  me,  for  a  time 
without  success.  I  continued  calling  for  the  cow,  when 
after  a  time  she  came  scampering  back  into  camp  with  a 
large  herd  of  cattle  after  her.  I  had  been  feeling  pretty 
blue,  but  her  appearance  cheered  me  up.  I  caught  and 
made  her  fast,  giving  her  some  grain.  My  wagon  was 
still  in  the  creek  and  in  the  wagon  was  a  box  made  to  fit 
the  body  of  the  wagon.  In  this  box  I  kept  all  needful 
articles,  and  now  I  wanted  my  lantern  and  some  kerosene 
oil.  I  took  off  my  boots,  stockings,  pants  and  drawers, 
put  on  my  overcoat,  fastening  the  skirt  tight  around  my 
waist  and  went  into  the  creek  and  got  my  lantern  and  oil, 
and  made  the  ropes  fast  to  the  front  axles  of  the  carriage. 
With  the  oil  I  filled  my  lamp  and  the  balance  I  poured 
on  the  ground  and  set  it  on  fire.  The  water  I  used  to 
wash  me.  After  this  I  re-dressed  and  ate  a  cold  supper, 
not  being  able  to  find  wood  for  a  fire.  Then  I  fed  the 
cattle  and  went  to  bed  to  rest  as  I  was  very  tired.  Dur 
ing  the  night  I  was  awakened  by  the  passing  express  train 
and  the  herd  of  cows  that  my  cow  had  become  acquainted 


WELLS.  147 


with,  kept  around  tbe  camp  all  night  and  disturbed  me 
some. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  1 3th  I  was  up  and  connec 
ted  the  ropes  with  the  tug-buckles,  and  then  hitched  my 
horse  to  the  ropes  and  it  was  not  much  trouble  to  drag 
the  carriage  out  of  the  creek.  I  put  my  things  back  in 
the  carriage  and  got  all  ready  for  moving  on.  Just  at 
six  o'clock  I  left  Humboldt  river  and  have  not  seen  it 
since.  Reader,  should  you  ever  go  west  by  the  Central 
Pacific  railroad,  nine  miles  west  of  Wells,  you  pass  with 
in  twenty  rods  of  this  ford  ;  so  do  not  forget  to  look  into 
this  ford.  I  started  for  Wells  about  half-past  eight  o'clock 
and  met  the  man  from  whom  I  had  borrowed  the  ropes. 
"Good  morning,  friend  ;  I  intended  to  have  started  sooner 
to  help  you,  but  my  horses  had  hobbled  off  some  distance 
and  have  made  me  late."  "Stranger,  all  the  same,  I 
came  out  all  right;  have  }rou  any  whisky?"  "I  have 
some,  I  got  my  flask  filled  when  I  came  through  Wells. 
Let  us  take  a  smile.  I  would  rather  take  a  drink  with 
you  than  any  one  in  this  part  of  the  world  ;  how  have  you 
got  along,  I  would  like  to  know?"  "Stranger,  I  have 
got  along  so  far,  about  twelve  hundred  miles."  "From 
where,  what  part  of  the  world,  I  would  like  to  know?" 
"Stranger,  I  am  from  California,  three  hundred  miles 
north  of  San  Francisco,  and  going  to  Massachusetts." 
"You  never  can  make  that  much."  "I  don't  know  that, 
time  will  tell."  "My  friend,  I  hope  you  will  go  through 
all  safe  and  sound,  it  will  be  a  big  feather  in  your  cap, 
you  bet.  Well,  good-bye  to  you  and  I  hope  }rou  may  get 
along  all  right."  "Stranger,  thank  }'ou  for  the  loan  of 
those  ropes,  good-bye."  I  left  him  and  about  nine  o'clock 
entered  the  town  of  Wells  ;  as  I  passed  along  Main  street, 
a  number  of  men  stood  in  front  of  the  Post  Office  and 
one  of  them  sang  out,  "Here  he  comes."  I  was  then  in 
their  midst  and  said,  "Who  comes?"  "The  man  from 


148  WELLS. 


California  with  his  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog  and  3-011 
must  be  the  man,  I  read  about  it  in  the  papers.  The  en 
gineer  of  3'esterday's  noon  train  said  he  passed  }rou  and 
thought  you  would  arrive  here  last  night."  "Gentlemen, 
here  I  am,  but  look  at  my  wagon  !"  "I  see  it  looks  as  if 
3'ou  had  been  in  the  mud,  3*ou  must  have  crossed  on  the 
railroad  trail  on  the  sunken  bridge?"  "I  did,  sir." 
"You  ought  to  have  come  b3r  the  old  emigrant  trail,  3rour 
ford  would  have  been  good  ;  how  did  3'ou  get  across  ?" 
"I  drove  down  the  bank  into  the  rnud  and  I  found  that 
sometime  there  had  been  a  bridge,  which  was  now  under 
water.  I  stopped  on  this  sunken  bridge  and  allowed  my 
cattle  to  drink  all  the3r  needed  and  then  spoke  to  Fanny  to 
go  on,  when  down  she  went  into  the  mud  as  quick  as 
electricity  ;  she  gave  one  big  flounder,  breaking  her  tugs, 
I  holding  on  to  the  lines  was  dragged  over  the  dash-board 
into  the  creek  ;  this  accounts  for  the  mud  3'ou  see  on  us. 
I  fastened  my  horse  to  an  alder,  went  into  the  creek  and 
detached  n^  cow  from  the  carriage  and  turned  her  loose 
to  eat  as  she  choose  and  then  went  back  for  my  dog,  then 
I  unloaded  the  wagon  and  started  for  this  place  for  some 
thing  to  draw  my  wagon  from  the  creek  ;  I  came  within  a 
mile  of  this  place  when  I  saw  to  nr}*  right  a  man  with  two 
horses  camping.  I  went  to  him  telling  him  in  what  a  fix 
I  was,  and  wanted  the  use  of  two  ropes  about  thirty  feet 
long.  He  had  the  ropes  and  I  could  have  them,  he  would 
hobble  his  horses  and  I  need  go  no  further.  I  took  the 
ropes  and  turned  back  ;  this  morning  I  made  them  fast  to 
the  wagon  and  the  hame  tugs,  then  the  horse  dragged  the 
wagon  from  the  creek,  then  I  reloaded  m3r  things  and  here 
I  am."  "Stranger,  we  are  glad  to  see  3rou,  come  in  and 
have  a  lunch,  you  must  be  faint  b3T  this  time."  "I  am, 
and  so  are  1113'  cattle."  "Come  in  and  get  some  refresh 
ments,  and  when  dinner-time  comes  around  you  will  not 
be  so  hungry."  I  went  in  and  had  a  lunch  with  the  stran 
ger  and  soon  became  acquainted  with  many  of  them. 


WELLS.  149 


"Take  your  cattle  down  to  the  stable  and  give  them  a 
good  dinner,  I  will  go  down  with  you.  John,  take  this 
horse  and  cow,  give  them  all  they  will  eat,  hay  and  grain. 
This  man  will  give  }~ou  directions  how  to  feed  them.  The}' 
have  come  from  California  and  have  got  still  a  longer 
road  before  them."  I  went  into  the  hotel  and  asked  for  a 
pail  in  which  to  milk,  the  cow  not  having  been  milked 
since  the  previous  morning ;  her  bag  is  full  and  it  must  be 
painful.  I  returned  to  the  barn,  milked  and  took  the  milk 
to  the  hotel ;  the  pail  was  full,  but  the  cow  had  not  been 
fully  milked.  I  returned  and  finished  milking  and  took 
the  remainder  to  the  hotel,  saying  to  the  landlord,  "What 
do  you  thinfc  of  a  cow  that  gives  such  a  quantity  of 
milk,  travelling  more  then  twelve  hundred  miles?"  "I 
think  she  is  a  fine  cow  and  I  would  like  to  buy  her,  but 
suppose  3rou  would  not  sell.  I  would  not  if  I  was  in  your 
place.  I  would  do  the  best  to  get  her  through.  When 
the  train  arrives  from  the  west,  take  this  milk  to  the  de 
pot  and  sell  it,  you  can,  at  ten  cents  a  pint."  "Landlord, 
I  would  like  you  to  have  it  for  your  trouble."  "Never 
mind  that,  there  must  be  fourteen  quarts,  it  will  make  you 
two  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents.  I  will  find  you  a  dish 
that  holds  just  a  pint,  fill  it  for  ten  cents,  no  one  will  ob 
ject  paying  that  price  for  milk."  When  the  train  arrived 
they  ran  past  the  depot  and  backed  on  a  siding  opposite 
the  barn  where  my  cattle  were.  My  wagon  was  in  sight 
of  the  train.  I  went  down  with  the  milk  and  the  con 
ductor  of  the  train  said,  "Well,  friend  traveller,  you  are 
here,  I  thought  you  would  be  along  about  this  time.  I 
have  passed  you  man}"  times,  we  all  know  you  now,  when 
did  you  arrive?"  "This  morning,  I  intended  to  have  been 
here  last  evening,  but  did  not.  I  have  just  milked  the 
cow,  perhaps  some  of  your  passengers  would  like  some, 
call  out  to  them."  He  did  so,  saying  "Here  is  a  man  from 
California,  going  East  to  Massachusetts,  with  horse,  car 
riage,  cow  and  dog.  There  is  the  carriage  and  his  cattle 


150  WELLS. 


are  in  the  barn ;  he  has  just  milked,  who  wants  milk?" 
The  passengers  flocked  around,  also  many  citizens.  I 
commenced  pouring  out  the  milk  and  was  asked,  "How 
much  for  the  dish-full?"  '-Ten  cents,"  I  answered.  It 
was  quickly  sold.  Having  disposed  of  the  milk,  the  pas 
sengers  asked  me  a  thousand  and  one  questions,  which  I 
cheerfully  answered.  The  conductor  called  all  aboard, 
and  after  the  train  had  gone  I  found  two  dollars  and  sixt}7- 
five  cents,  the  result  of  the  sale  of  the  milk.  At  this 
time  the  gong  sounded  for  dinner  and  the  landlord  bade 
me  go  in,  I  saying  that  the  lunch  had  taken  away  my  ap 
petite.  He  said,  "I  am  glad  of  that,  you  will  not  eat  as 
much."  After  dinner  I  inquired  for  a  harness  shop,  and 
was  told  there  was  one  down  street,  two  doors  this  side 
the  barn.  I  went  to  the  shop  taking  my  harness  with  me 
and  said  that  I  wanted  my  harness  repaired ;  yesterday 
my  horse  broke  these  tugs  in  two.  "You  must  have  been 
in  a  tight  place  to  break  such  good  tugs,"  said  the  pro 
prietor.  "Sir,  I  will  tell  you  a  part  of  the  story.  It  is 
lengthy."  I  then  told  him  of  my  mishap  and  said,  "How 
mnch  are  you  going  to  charge  me  to  splice  them?"  "I 
will  splice  them  for  one  dollar,  as  it  is  you  ;  if  it  were 
any  of  my  customers  I  should  charge  them  one  dollar  and 
fifty  cents,  but  under  the  circumstances  I  will  charge  you 
but  one  dollar."  "Can  you  do  them  this  afternoon,  as  I 
wish  to  leave  early  to-morrow  morning  ?"  He  agreed  to 
do  so,  and  late  in  the  afternoon  I  called  for  the  tugs,  ask 
ing  "Have  you  spliced  those  tugs?"  "I  have,  they  are 
much  stronger  than  before."  "If  I  mistake  not,  your 
charge  is  one  dollar?"  "That  was  the  price,  but  I  have 
concluded  to  do  better  than  that,  I  will  not  charge  you 
anything ;  you  have  come  a  long  distance  and  have  a 
much  longer  one  before  you.  I  do  not  think  you  can  ac 
complish  the  undertaking."  "Friend,  I  thank  you  for 
this  favor,  I  appreciate  it ;  my  funds  are  almost  exhausted 
and  I  can  have  no  more  until  reaching  Ogden.  My  cow 


WELLS.  151 


is  doing  finely,  her  milk  helps  me  much.  I  sell  it  when 
I  can  for  money  and  when  I  cannot  I  exchange  it  for 
something  to  eat.  When  I  left  Sacramento  she  was  fresh 
in  milk,  she  is  milked  twice  a  day.  I  would  use  what  I 
can  and  carry  the  remainder,  but  it  would  go  sour  and  I 
should  have  to  throw  it  away.  I  have  done  this  many 
times,  so  I  have  changed  my  milking  time.  For  instance, 
if  I  were  at  some  ranche  or  station  and  could  part  with  it, 
I  milked  ;  when  away  from  a  ranche  or  station  I  did  njt 
milk,  but  let  the  cow  carry  it,  as  it  does  not  sour  in  the 
bag.  I  have  taken  milk  from  the  cow  as  many  as  five 
times  a  day  and  have  met  tramps  who  have  asked  me  "If 
I  had  anything  to  eat?"  "Yes,  my  bread  is  crackers, 
3'ou  can  have  some."  I  would  then  take  out  from  my 
wagon  the  lunch  basket  and  hand  out  the  crackers. 
"Have  you  an}'  meat?"  "No,  not  a  bit."  If  the  tramp 
was  a  fair  sort  of  fellow  I  would  milk  the  cow  and  give 
it  him  with  the  crackers.  This  I  have  done  many  times  ; 
some  have  offered  money,  but  as  yet  I  have  never  taken  a 
cent. 

Wells  is  situated  on  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad,  about 
two  hundred  and  twenty  miles  from  Ogden.  It  is  a  smart, 
lively,  business  town.  Large  amounts  of  freight  are 
brought  here,  left  and  taken  by  teams  to  the  mountains 
and  mining  camps.  On  entering  the  town  from  the  west, 
you  travel  up  Main  street ;  on  your  left  are  the  railroad 
and  station  house  ;  on  your  right  is  a  long  block  of  build 
ings,  mostly  brick.  These  buildings  are  mostly  occupied 
by  stores,  with  many  kinds  of  merchandise.  Post  Office, 
express  offices  and  a  hotel  with  a  livery  stable.  On  the 
side  streets  are  blacksmith,  carriage  and  harness  shops. 

On  the  morning  of  the  14th  I  left  Wells.  About  eight 
o'clock  I  reached  Cedar  station.  This  is  simply  an  ac 
commodation  station  for  the  drawers  of  wood  ;  on  my 


152  MOORES  STATION. 


right  there  is  cedar  timber  in  abundance.  So  far  my  trail 
has  been  good  but  hilly,  the  surrounding  country  r-11- 
ing  ;  no  more  alkalic  deserts  for  the  present.  Two  miles 
further  I  came  to  Moores  station.  This  is  a  section 
station,  and  I  made  a  stop  here  to  feed  and  water  the 
cattle.  A  lady  frjm  a  house  close  by  came  out  to  me 
saying,  "You  are  travelling?"  "Yes,"  I  replied.  "You 
have  a  fine  locking  cow  ;  do  you  milk  her?"  she  asked. 
"I  do  ;  she  has  not  been  milked  this  morning,  would  ycu 
like  s  >me  milk?"  "Yes,  indeed  ;  milk  is  a  luxury  here," 
said  the  lady.  "How  much  would  you  like  ?"  "I  will 
take  a  gallon;  how  much  do  you  ask  for  a  gallon?" 
"Fifty  cents  a  gallon  to  the  stations,  when  I  sell  to  pas 
sengers  on  the  trains  I  ask  more."  "Fifty  cents  a  gallon 
is  what  I  pay  when  I  can  get  it ;  I  will  take  a  gallon," 
said  the  lady.  I  sat  down  and  milked  my  can  full,  which 
holds  just  a  gallon.  She  paid  me  for  the  milk  and  said, 
"If  you  come  this  way  again,  please  call  if  you  have  your 
cow  with  y  u,  I  will  take  some  more  milk  of  you.  Good 
bye,"  she  said  as  we  parted.  At  Wells  I  was  informed 
that  at  Independence  I  should  find  grass  in  abundance. 
On  our  arrival  I  found  some  grass,  but  more  cattle  than 
grass.  There  was  a  large  meadow  fenced  with  wire  and 
when  we  came  to  this  fence  I  stopped  ;  the  trail  had  been 
fenced  in.  I  turned  sharp  to  my  right  and  crossed  the 
railroad,  going  on  until  we  came  to  a  small  creek  ;  before 
crossing  I  looked  around  and  saw  a  herd  of  cattle  rushing 
after  me  and  we  were  soon  surrounded  by  them.  I  should 
think  there  were  seventy-five  of  them.  I  was  a  little 
frightened,  so  was  the  cow,  but  the  horse  was  not.  I 
took  the  dog  out  of  the  wagon  and  set  it  at  the  cattle, 
which  made  them  scamper  away.  Then  I  crossed  the 
creek  over  a  plank  bridge  and  followed  the  trail,  in  fact, 
the  road,  as  money  had  evidently  been  expended  on  it. 
I  went  on  leaving  the  railroad  on  my  left,  and  in  front  a 
high  bluff  or  mountain  range.  I  saw  that  I  was  leaving 


CABIN  RANCHE.  153 


the  railroad  to  my  left,  and  supposed  the  track  was 
obliged  to  g.>  round  the  other  side  of  this  mountain  and 
my  trail  would  come  on  it  again,  so  continued  onward. 
The  sun  was  fast  going  down.  I  crowded  along  as  the 
day  was  getting  darker  and  I  could  see  no  houses,  but  to 
my  right  there  wras  a  light.  I  think  the  horse  saw  this, 
for  as  soon  as  the  horse  came  to  the  trail  she  took  it,  and 
after  travelling  about  forty  rods  we  came  to  a  log-cabin. 
Two  men  were  standing  in  front,  to  whom  I  said,  "Good 
evening,  gentlemen."  "Good  evening,  stranger."  "I 
am  travelling  East ;  am  I  on  my  right  road  to  Ferrice  ?" 
"You  are  not ;  you  are  from  the  west,  I  suppose,  as  you 
answer  to  the  description  of  the  man  that  is  travelling 
from  California  to  Massachusetts.  When  you  were  at 
the  creek  near  the  railroad  you  should  have  taken  the 
trail  to  the  depot,  this  side  of  the  bridge."  "Must  I 
turn  back?"  "Yes,  you  will  have  to  return  to  the  depot." 
"Can  I  stay  here  to-night;  I  see  ycu  have  hay  and  I 
would  like  some  for  my  cattle?"  "Yes,  you  can  have  all 
the  hay  }TOU  wish  and  I  will  not  charge  you  a  cent."  "I 
carry  grain,  and  when  n^t  able  to  find  grass  or  haj^,  I  fall 
back  on  grain."  "There  is  the  hay,  help  yourself  to  what 
you  want ;  down  there  a  few  rods,  you  will  find  water, 
and  good  at  that."  Taking  my  basket  to  the  cabin  I 
asked  permission  to  make  some  coffee.  "Yes,  if  you 
like,  but,  stranger,  3*011  can  take  s  )me  supper  with  me." 
"Thank  you,  I  have  plenty  to  eat,  as  I  carry  tea,  coffee, 
sugar  and  milk."  I  see  you  have  a  fine  looking  co\v,  does 
she  give  milk?"  "She  does,  I  will  milk  her  and  you  can 
have  the  milk,  it  may  be  a  luxury  to  you." 


At  five  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  15th  I  left  Cabin 
Ranche  for  a  return  to  Independence  station.  My  taking 
the  wrong  trail  had  made  fourteen  miles  of  extra  travel. 
About  half-past  seven  I  reached  the  station  and  rested  a 
short  time,  giving  water  to  the  cattle  and  then  went  on. 


154  MONTICELLO. 


At  half- past  ten  I  made  Otego  station,  giving  grain  and 
water  to  the  cattle  and  preparing  a  lunch  for  nryself,  and 
after  resting  one  hour  went  on.  My  trail  was  not  as  good 
as  usual,  hilly  and  rough.  At  two  in  the  afternoon  we 
passed  Pequoy  station,  but  did  not  stop  until  I  reached 
Toano  station.  Here  I  stopped  for  a  feed,  making  a  fire 
I  made  some  coffee,  it  tasted  good  and  was  refreshing.  I 
spread  my  blankets  and  laid  down  for  a  while.  There 
was  a  good  moon,  so  I  concluded  to  travel  a  while  longer, 
and  broke  camp  at  eight  o'clock  and  went  on.  My  trail 
had  improved,  it  was  not  so  hilly,  but  sand}7.  About  half- 
past  ten  o'clock  p.  m.,  we  reached  Loray  station  and  pas 
sed  through  without  stopping.  A  little  after  midnight  the 
express  train  from  the  west  passed  and  at  two  o'clock  the 
express  from  the  east.  I  had  almost  reached  Monticello 
station.  On  making  this  place  a  little  later  I  stopped,  all 
of  us  being  very  tired.  I  hitched  the  horse  to  a  tele 
graph  pole,  spread  my  blankets  and  laid  down  on  them, 
being  very  tired  I  was  soon  slumbering. 

On  the  morning  of  the  16th  I  was  awakened  about  five 
o'clock  by  a  passing  train  and  got  up,  the  sun  had  not 
yet  risen,  but  I  thought  it  was  late.  I  am  a  great  talker 
to  my  cattle,  having  no  one  else  to  speak  to,  and  said, 
"Well,  Fanny,  how  arc  you  this  morning ;  you  must  want 
some  water  about  this  time  ?"  I  fed  them  with  grain  and 
gave  them  water,  greased  the  wagon  and  went  onwards. 
At  nine  o'clock  we  reached  Tecoma  station  ;  this  is  a  tele 
graph  station.  On  entering  the  town,  on  my  right  I  saw 
a  stack  of  hay  and  I  drove  along  side  of  it  giving  the 
cattle  a  chance  to  eat,  which  they  did  right  smart.  After 
a  little  while  a  Chinaman  came  along,  saj'ing  nothing  and 
passed  on.  Soon  he  returned  with  another  Chinaman  and 
on  coming  up  to  me  said,  "Your  cattle  eat  my  hay."  I 
took  from  my  pocket  a  dime  and  gave  it  to  him  ;  he  took 
it  seeming  much  pleased.  I  then  told  them  I  was  from 


TECOMA.  155 


California.  "Yah,  you  from  California?"  uYes,  I  am 
from  California  and  going  to  Massachusetts."  "Yah, 
here  take  dis  money,  you  go  to  Massachusetts."  "Keep 
it,"  I  said.  "No,  no-keepee,  you  go  to  Massachusetts," 
said  the  Chinaman.  When  the  morning  freight  train 
from  the  East  arrived,  about  half-past  four  o'clock,  three 
tramps  were  ejected  from  the  train,  having  stolen  a  ride 
from  Kelton ;  they  were  about  twenty  years  of  age  and 
rough  appearing  fellows.  They  had  been  prowling  around 
some  four  or  five  hours,  came  where  I  was  camping  and 
began  asking  questions  quite  familiarly.  They  said  they 
were  from  the  east,  and  I  asked  them  what  part  of  the 
East?  "From  St.  Louis,"  they  answered.  "Where  are 
you  going?"  "To  "California."  "How  long  have  you 
been  on  the  road?"  "About  a  month  ;  will  you  give  us 
something  to  eat,  we  are  hungry?"  "Have  you  no 
money?"  "Not  a  cent."  "And  going  to  California  with 
out  any  money.  You  will  be  hungry  all  the  way."  "We 
have  had  no  money  since  we  left  Ogden."  "Where  did 
you  get  on  the  cars  last  night?"  "  We  got  on  at  Kelton 
and  rode  to  this  place,  when  we  were  put  off."  I  got  my 
lunch  basket  and  a  four  quart  measure  that  I  use  to 
measure  out  the  feed  for  my  cattle,  I  filled  the  measure 
with  crackers  and  got  a  can  of  salmon,  having  two,  milked 
the  cow  until  I  had  about  four  quarts  and  gave  them  to 
them  saying,  "Here,  boys,  is  your  milk,  salmon  and  crack 
ers,  it  is  the  best  I  can  do  for  }'ou."  "This  is  more  than 
we  asked  and  hope  we  shall  do  as  well  to-morrow." 
While  they  were  eating  I  got  ready  and  started,  leaving 
them  eating  their  breakfast.  I  went  to  the  depot  for  a 
sack  of  grain,  but  having  forgot  to  take  my  milk  can,  I 
went  back  for  it,  saying,  "Well,  boys,  how  do  you  make 
out?"  "First  rate,  you  are  every  inch  a  man  ;  we  wish 
we  could  meet  you  every  day."  "Have  you  drank  all 
the  milk?"  "Yes,  long  ago."  I  got  the  can  from  them 
and  started  for  Terrace,  it  was  just  half-past  ten  o'clock. 


156  BOVINE. 


It  has  been  1113"  custom  to  follow  the  railroad  as  close  as  I 
could,  so  that  should  I  become  sick  or  disabled  I  could 
have  ready  access  to  the  railroad,  This  custom  I  have 
generally  adhered  to.  I  have  often  been  told  that  the  old 
emigrant  trail  was  always  the  best,  and  now  I  am  advised 
to  keep  the  old  trail  to  Terrace,  and  on  leaving  this 
station  there  is  but  one  trail  for  some  distance.  I  took 
this  trail,  travelling  with  the  railroad  to  rny  right,  until 
about  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  I  came  to  some 
grass,  known  as  bunch  grass.  This  grass  grows  in 
bunches,  some  as  large  as  a  bog.  The  small  bunches 
look  beautiful,  on  the  alkalic  plains  and  among  the  sage 
bushes.  I  stopped  here,  taking  the  horse  from  the  car 
riage,  removed  her  harness  and  turned  her  loose,  and  the 
cow  also.  This  they  enjoyed  for  about  an  hour  and  at 
two  o'clock  we  resumed  our  journey.  In  front  of  us  was 
a  mountain,  a  noble  looking  fellow.  It  appeared  to  be 
about  five  miles  away,  yet  it  might  be  twenty-five.  We 
went  on,  the  railroad  was  out  of  sight,  I  could  not  see  a 
telegraph  pole  and  began  to  feel  uneasy,  and  wished  I 
had  taken  the  other  trail.  The  more  I  thought,  the  more 
foolish  I  felt  and  concluded  to  change  my  course.  All 
around  me  was  a  flat  surface  ;  the  sage  bushes  were  quite 
thin  and  scattering,  and  I  was  bound  to  find  the  railroad 
that  I  had  left  to  my  right.  I  had  been  travelling  east  by 
the  sun.  I  then  struck  out  on  a  south-east  line  and  con 
tinued  on  that  course  for  two  hours ;  the  sun  almost 
down  and  no  railroad  in  sight.  I  changed  my  course  to 
the  right  and  just  as  the  sun  was  dropping  out  of  sight  I 
came  to  the  railroad.  I  then  changed  my  course  to  the 
left  and  came  on  the  railroad  trail  near  to  Bovine  station, 
which  I  soon  reached.  It  had  got  dark  and  cloudy,  no 
moon  to  be  seen.  My  lantern  was  minus  oil,  I  having 
neglected  to  fill  it.  I  poured  some  oil  on  the  ground  and 
set  it  on  fire,  then  I  filled  the  lantern  by  its  light.  Having 
a  light,  I  then  saw  a  house  close  by  and  went  to  it,  to 


BOVINE.  157 


ascertain  if  I  could  get  water.  I  knocked  at  the  door 
and  a  voice  asked,  "Who  is  there?"  "Madam,  I  am  a 
stranger  and  have  come  a  long  distance ;  I  have  a  horse 
and  cow  and  would  like  some  water  for  them,  they  have 
not  tasted  since  morning.  I  want  some  good,  I  dare  not 
give  them  alkalic  water.  All  the  way  from  Wadsworth  I 
filled  my  cans  from  the  cisterns  at  the  stations."  "Where 
have  you  come  from?"  asked  the  lady.  "I  have  come 
from  California,  am  going  East  to  Massachusetts,  which 
is  my  home."  ikl  dare  not  let  you  in,  my  husband  has 
not  yet  come  home,  he  will  be  here  soon."  "I  do  not 
care  to  come  in,  all  I  want  is  water  for  the  cattle."  I  had 
to  wait.  I  went  back  to  the  camp  and  gave  the  cattle 
some  grain  and  got  ready  to  go  to  bed  ;  as  I  was  about 
to  retire  the  freight  train  from  the  west  passed  by.  I 
made  my  cattle  fast  to  their  post,  went  to  bed  and  soon 
fell  asleep.  About  one  a.  m.,  I  was  awakened  by  a  pass 
ing  train,  which  came  to  a  dead  stop.  Two  men  got  off 
the  train  and  went  to  the  house.  Soon  after  these  men 
came  to  where  I  lay  ;  my  lantern  was  hanging  on  the  hub 
of  the  wheel,  burning.  I  called  out,  "Halt!  advance  and 
give  the  counter-sign."  They  stopped,  right  short.  "We 
have  just  got  off  the  train  and  went  into  the  house  where 
we  belong.  I  am  boss  of  repairs.  My  wife  said  there 
was  a  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  railroad,  with  a  horse, 
carriage,  cow  and  dog  from  California,  going  East,  to 
Massachusetts;  is  that  so?"  "It  is,  I  told  her  every 
word  of  it."  "Is  that  true?"  "It  is  true  ;  I  have  come 
from  California  and  it  is  my  intention  to  go  East,  to  Mas 
sachusetts."  "Stranger,  come  into  the  house  and  take  a 
bed,  you  shall  be  welcome."  "Friend,  I  thank  you ;  I 
never  have  left  my  cattle  alone  over  night.  All  times, 
day  and  night,  I  am  with  them.  I  do  not  intend  to  have 
any  one  take  my  horse  or  cow  without  my  knowledge." 
"Your  cattle  will  be  safe  here."  "Perhaps  they  would, 
but  I  do  not  intend  to  take  any  chances.  Friend,  my 


158  TERRACE. 


cow  ought  to  be  milked,  she  has  not  been  milked  since 
yesterday  morning,  she  will  be  more  comfortable  ;  you. 
get  me  something  to  milk  in  and  }'ou  can  have  it."  He 
went  for  a  pail  and  I  filled  it,  about  four  quarts.  He  took 
the  milk  into  the  house  and  gave  it  to  the  lady.  "Stran 
ger,  there  will  be  a  train  from  the  west  soon,  is  your 
horse  afraid  of  the  cars?"  "No,  not  the  least,  but  the 
cow  is."  "Well,  stranger,  if  you  will  not  come  in  and 
sleep,  we  shall  have  to  leave  you  for  the  night.  Good 
night." 

Bovine  station  I  left  early  on  the  morning  of  the  17th, 
for  Terrace.  It  was  a  dark,  cloudy  morning,  looking  as 
though  it  would  rain  at  any  moment,  and  should  it  rain 
there  was  no  place  for  shelter.  I  said  U  myself,  the  next 
station  is  eleven  miles  ;  I  must  make  it,  rain  or  no  rain. 
At  half-past  five  I  moved  on,  and  at  half-past  six  I  heard 
thunder  ;  it  was  dark,  too  dark  for  that  time  in  the  morn 
ing,  so  I  crowded  along  as  fast  as  possible  ;  remember  it 
is  all  walk.  Again  I  heard  thunder  and  kept  talking  to 
my  horse,  saying  "Go  on,  Fanny."  I  was  sure  we  were 
going  to  have  something  terrible ;  it  was  something  new 
to  have  rain,  I  had  seen  nothing  like  it.  To  my  right  I 
could  see  a  long  distance,  many  miles  ;  so  flat  was  the 
surface.  After  having  made  about  five  miles,  I  saw  to 
my  right  a  very  d;irk  cloud,  a  black  cloud.  Thunder  and 
lightning  were  more  frequent  and  such  streaks  of  light 
ning  and  thunder  I  never  before  witnessed.  I  stopped 
and  made  things  on  my  wagon  as  fast  as  I  could,  put  on 
my  rubber  coat  and  went  as  fast  as  I  could.  Every  streak 
of  lightning  went  to  the  ground,  the  thunder  was  terrible. 
It  seemed  to  me,  as  if  it  had  got  out  of  patience  with  the 
lightning  and  was  bound  to  smash  things  generally. 
The  rain  came  but  it  was  of  short  duration  ;  then  followed 
hail,  as  large  as  hen's  eggs  and  it  fell  with  great  force, 
striking  on  the  head  of  the  horse.  I  stepped  back  to  the 


TERRACE.  159 


wagon,  pulled  out  a  sack  and  threw  it  over  the  horse's 
head.  Here  I  stopped  for  the  storm  to  pass  over.  The 
cloud  passed  on  and  left  behind  it  hailstones  to  the  depth 
of  four  or  six  inches.  This  made  it  fine  travelling  on  al- 
kalic  soil.  I  had  about  six  miles  to  go  so  we  went  on. 
It  took  me  three  hours  to  travel  that  distance,  less  than 
two  miles  to  the  hour.  On  my  arrival  in  Terrace  I  was 
informed  that  it  was  the  severest  storm  ever  known  there. 

Terrace  is  situated  on  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad, 
about  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  miles  from  Ogden.  It 
is  a  station  of  the  first-class  ;  here  the  railroad  has  a  ma 
chine  shop  for  the  repairs  of  the  rolling  stock,  which  gives 
employment  to  many  hands ;  this  makes  it  a  stirring 
town.  You  enter  the  town  from  the  west  on  its  Main 
street ;  on  the  right  are  the  machine  shops  and  a  little 
further  is  the  station  ;  on  your  left,  there  is  a  long  block 
of  buildings  in  which  all  kinds  of  business  is  carried  on  ; 
a  post  office,  several  stores,  saloons  and  many  boarding- 
houses. 

On  the  morning  of  the  19th  I  lelt  Terrace  for  Kelton. 
It  was  six  o'clock  when  I  started  ;  the  morning  was  cold 
and  cloudy  and  I  hesitated  about  starting,  but  being 
anxious  to  reach  Ogden,  I  went  on.  I  was  told  after 
travelling  a  mile  to  cross  the  railroad,  as  the  trail  on  the 
south  side  was  the  best  for  travelling.  My  trail  was  any 
thing  but  good.  Having  made  the  first  mile  and  could 
see  no  crossing  I  stopped  and  looked  for  it.  but  found 
none.  I  carry  four  pieces  of  wood,  two  by  four  feet  long. 
This  timber  I  put  on  the  side  of  the  rails  so  that  my  car 
riage  wheels  would  run  over  the  rails  without  straining 
my  wagon.  At  first-class  stations  there  is  timber  laid  for 
the  crossings.  I  looked  around  for  a  suitable  place  to 
cross  and  found  a  good  one  ;  I  laid  my  timbers  and  cros 
sed  the  track  and  struck  a  good  road  and  went  on  with 


160  MATLIN. 


good  cheer.  About  noon  I  made  Matlin  station  and  stop 
ped,  gave  my  cattle  a  feed  and  went  to  the  station.  Here 
I  found  a  man  sitting  reading  a  newspaper  beside  a 
stove  ;  I  passed  the  compliments  of  the  day  with  him, 
and  said  "I  am  travelling  East  to  Ogden,  will  you  give 
me  the  privilege  of  making  some  coffee  on  your  stove  ?" 
"Oh,  3*es ;  with  pleasure."  I  made  some  coffee,  boiled 
some  eggs  and  ate  nry  dinner.  "You  say  you  are  travel, 
ling,  how  far  have  you  come?"  "I  have  come  a  long 
distance  ;  from  California."  "What  part  of  California?" 
"The  north-western  part,  three  hundred  miles  north  of 
San  Francisco,  Eureka  city,  Humboldt  Bay."  "I  know 
where  that  is.  It  is  a  large  lumbering  place,  and  you 
have  come  all  that  distance,  with  that  horse  and  cow?" 
"Yes,  sir;  I  have."  "Which  way  did  you  come?" 
"There  is  only  one  way  to  come  with  a  team  ;  the  over 
land  road  to  the  cit}*-  of  San  Francisco,  through  Humboldt 
and  Mendocino  counties,  through  Ukiah  to  Cloverdale ; 
which  is  the  terminus  of  the  North  Pacific  Railroad." 
"When  I  went  there  it  was  by  the  steamer  Humboldt,  and 
you  have  come  all  that  distance.  Well,  well ;  you  are  a 
brick,  well-burned;  you  say  you  are  going  to  Ogden?" 
"Yes,  sir ;  but  I  do  not  intend  to  stop  there  long ;  to  be 
short,  I  am  on  my  way  to  Massachusetts."  "Is  Massa 
chusetts  j'our  native  State?"  "It  is  not,  but  it  is  ni}* 
home.  I  went  from  Massachusetts  to  California  and  I 
am  now  on  my  way  back."  "Well,  well ;  I  am  from 
Maine.  I  went  from  Maine  to  California  to  work  on  the 
lumber,  but  did  not  like  California,  so  I  concluded  to  re 
turn  home,  to  Maine.  I  became  acquainted  with  a  man 
that  was  going  to  Terrace  to  work  and  I  came  with  him, 
and  here  I  am  instead  of  Maine.  Do  you  honestly  think 
you  can  get  your  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog  in  this  way 
to  Massachusetts?"  "Yes,  I  honestly  think  I  can." 
"Well,  I  hope  you  can,  but  it  is  a  big  thing  ;  you  will  find 
it  so  before  you  get  there."  "I  am  aware  of  it ;  by  the 


OMBEY. 


161 


time  I  get  there  I  shall  have  travelled  four  thousand 
miles.  But,  friend,  I  must  leave  you.'*  I  returned  to 
my  cattle  and  found  that  the  horse  had  not  eaten  her 
grain,  so  I  gave  it  to  the  cow  and  she  soon  ate  it  up.  It 
was  now  almost  raining,  there  being  a  heavy,  cold  mist. 
No  sheds  being  nigh  in  which  to  shelter,  I  go  on  to 
Ombey,  which  is  ten  miles  further.  Travelling  on  until 
about  five  o'clock,  I  came  to  some  grass ;  here  I  stopped 
and  allowed  the  horse  and  cow  to  have  their  fill  of  it,  and 
the}r  seemed  to  relish  it  well.  "Well,  Fanny  ;  we  must 
make  the  next  station,  Ombey."  We  moved  on  and 
reached  there  about  half-past  six.  This  is  a  section 
station,  a  house  for  the  boss  and  a  shanty  for  his  China 
men  assistants.  I  went  to  the  house  and  in  answer  to 
my  call,  a  man  came  to  the  door  asking,  "What  do  }TOU 
want,  stranger?"  I  answered,  "I  am  travelling  with  a 
horse  and  carriage  and  have  come  a  long  distance,  as  far 
as  from  California,  and  have  led  a  cow  that  distance  ;  to 
day  I  have  come  from  Terrace.  It  has  been  a  hard  day 
for  nvy  horse  and  she  is  not  feeling  well,  having  refused 
her  dinner  at  Matlin.  Now,  friend,  what  can  you  do  for 
my  cattle  and  me?"  "I  have  no  shed  or  wood-house  for 
your  cattle,  but  I  can  find  a  place  for  you."  "Friend, 
you  have  got  what  I  want  some  distance  back,  that  would 
suit  me."  "What  is  that?"  "It  is  your  hand-car  shed." 
"I  never  thought  of  that,  you  can  use  it  for  your  horse 
and  cow."  This  hand-car  house  was  but  a  short  distance 
from  the  boss  of  repairs  house.  He  went  with  me  and 
ran  out  the  hand-car  and  put  in  my  carriage,  horse  and 
cow.  "Friend,  I  am  all  right  now  ;  will  }TOU  give  me  some 
thing  to  milk  in,  and  I  will  give  you  the  milk?"  The  lad}r 
of  the  house  handed  me  a  pail  in  which  I  milked  and  filled 
it  full,  and  gave  it  to  the  lady.  By  this  time  the  lady  had 
made  some  coffee  expressly  for  me.  I  carried  in  my 
lunch  basket,  but  it  was  not  needed,  as  she  had  provided 
plenty  of  eatables.  After  supper  many  questions  were 


162  K  ELTON. 


asked,  such  as  where  I  was  from,  where  going,  how  long 
had  I  been  on  the  road,  and  whether  or  no  I  would  ever 
make  Massachusetts.  "Friends,  I  am  tired  and  would 
like  to  retire  ;  if  you  will  go  with  me  to  the  shed  you  may 
1  :ck  me  in,  but  must  let  me  out  in  the  morning."  "You 
may  stay  in  the  house  if  you  wish."  "I  prefer  to  sleep 
with  my  cattle  ;  I  have  done  so  every  night  since  I  left 
California."  We  went  to  the  shed,  found  all  right  and 
^he  cattle  seemed  satisfied  with  their  quarters.  I  gave  them 
water  and  grain,  made  up  my  bed  and  laid  down  f  or  the 
night;  the  stranger  saying  as  he  left  me,  "I  think  it  is 
best  not  to  lock  you  in  ;  should  anything  happen,  you  will 
be  able  to  get  out  and  let  us  know."  "Very  well,  per 
haps  that  would  be  the  best ;  good  night."  My  thoughts 
of  accidents  troubled  me  until  the  trains  which  meet  at 
this  station  had  passed,  then  I  slept  soundly  the  rest  of 
the  night, 

On  the  morning  of  the  20th  I  was  up  as  usual  getting 
ready  t)  move  onward.  I  gave  the  animals  their  break 
fast  and  was  greasing  the  wheels  of  my  wagon  when  my 
friend  of  the  station  came  along.  "Well,  stranger,  I  see 
you  are  making  ready  to  go  on  ;  how  did  you  sleep  last 
night?"  "Well,  the  first  part  I  slept  with  my  eyes  open, 
and  the  latter  much  better  with  them  closed,  the  trains 
having  passed."  "Our  breakfast  is  about  ready,  come  in 
and  have  a  dish  of  hot  coffee.  It  takes  milk  to  make 
good  coffee,  I  find."  "Yes,  it  improves  it  very  much." 
I  went  and  took  breakfast  with  them,  and  as  I  was  leav 
ing  said  to  them,  "Friends,  I  feel  very  grateful  to  you 
for  the  kindness  to  me.  I  am  sure,  could  my  cattle 
speak,  they  would  also  ;  good  morning."  "Good  morn 
ing,"  was  answered.  "Take  the  first  right  trail  after 
crossing  the  railroad,  it  is  the  best  and  the  nearest."  It 
is  just  six  o'clock  as  we  move  on  another  stage  of  our 
journey.  After  crossing  the  railroad  I  left  the  road  to  my 


KELTON.  163 

left,  my  trail  taking  me  down  into  the  canyon,  while  the 
railroad  went  around,  both  coming  together  again  before 
reaching  Kelton,  which  place  I  reached  at  eleven  o'clock. 
I  drove  down  to  the  stock  yards  and  asked  the  proprietor 
if  he  would  sell  me  some  hay  to  bait  my  horse  and  cow. 
"Lead  your  cattle  into  the  yard  and  we  will  feed  them  on 
ha}r."  "How  much  will  you  ask  me?"  "Fifty  cents  a 
head."  "Will  }-ou  sell  me  some  to  take  outside  of  the 
yard?"  "No,  not  a  pound,"  I  went  down  town,  coming 
to  a  small  barn.  I  stopped  and  went  into  the  barn  and 
heard  some  one  say,  "Whoa,  Fanny,  whoa."  On  look 
ing  around  I  saw  a  lady  putting  a  saddle  on  a  horse  and 
I  said  to  her,  "Madam,  I  have  just  come  into  town  and 
stopped  back  at  the  stock-yards  to  see  if  I  could  buy 
some  hay  for  my  cattle  ;  I  have  a  horse  and  cow.  I  am 
a  traveller,  I  have  come  a  long  distance  and  still  have  a 
longer  distance  before  me/'  "Where  are  your  cattle?" 
"Outside  the  barn."  She  stepped  out,  saw  them  and 
said,  "You  have  a  fme  looking  cow;  where  have  you 
come  from?"  "I  have  come  from  California."  "Not 
with  that  horse  and  cow?"  "Yes,  I  have."  "Drive  to 
the  barn,  take  the  horse  out  of  the  carriage  and  lead  "her 
into  that  stall,  put  the  cow  into  the  next  and  give  them  all 
the  hay  they  wish  ;  there  is  grain,  help  yourself,"  said  the 
lady.  I  did  as  told.  "How  long  do  you  intend  to  stay?" 
she  asked.  "I  would  like  to  stop  over  until  to-morrow 
morning.  The  cow  gives  milk,  but  she  has  not  been 
milked  since  last  night."  "I  would  like  the  milk,  I  keep 
an  eating-house  on  Main  street ;  I  will  get  a  pail  for  the 
milk,"  she  said.  She  brought  me  the  pail,  I  milked  and 
gave  it  to  her,  when  she  said,  "This  is  a  fine  mess  and  a 
large  quantity  of  milk.  I  would  like  that  cow ;  come  in 
and  have  some  dinner."  I  took  dinner  with  the  lady  and 
as  we  were  about  to  leave  the  table,  a  gentleman  came  in 
and  sat  down  to  dinner.  The  lady  said,  "This  is  my 
husband,  stranger.  This  man  says  he  has  travelled  from 


164  KELTON. 


California  to  this  place  with  a  horse,  carriage,  cow  and 
dog,  and  is  going  East,  to  Massachusetts."  "Then  you 
are  the  man  I  read  of  in  some  Western  papers  ?"  he  said . 
UI  am,  sir."  "You  are  a  gritty  fellow  to  undertake  such 
a  journey.  There  is  not  a  young  man  that  dares  do  as 
much/'  "His  cattle  are  in  our  barn,  go  and  lo^k  at  them 
after  dinner."  "I  will,  wife."  He  went  t)  the  barn  and 
looked  my  cattle  over,  saying  "He  has  got  a  fine  looking 
cow  and  a  good  one."  "John,  look  in  this  pail  and  see 
what  a  large  mess  of  milk  he  has  taken  from  her,"  said 
the  lady.  The  husband  left,  but  as  he  went  out  he  told 
everybody  that  I  had  arrived,  and  the  people  came  to  see 
me.  The  landlord  said  to  a  friend,  "Bill,  the  man  from 
California  has  got  along  with  his  horse  and  cow  ;  they  arc 
in  my  stable,  come  and  look  at  them;  my  wife  thinks 
everything  of  the  cow."  They  came.  "Well,  stranger, 
you  have  a  fine  horse  here."  "Yes  she  is  a  Morgan 
mare."  "I  see  she  is.  Where  is  the  cow?"  "Here  she 
is."  "She  is  a  daisy  ;  handsome  and  beautifully  marked. 
Have  you  come  from  California  with  this  horse  and  cow?" 
"I  have,  sir."  "You  are  a  brick,  well  burned.  If  you  suc 
ceed  in  this  enterprise  we  will  run  you  for  next  president." 
"Over  the  left.  Landlord,  where  shall  I  find  a  black 
smith  to  repair  my  carriage?''  "I  will  go  with  you  and 
introduce  you  to  the  blacksmith."  We  went  t  >  the  black 
smith's  shop,  the  landlord  saying,  "Jack,  this  man  wants 
some  work  done  on  his  carriage.  He  has  come  a  long 
distance ;  in  fact  he  is  the  man  we  read  of  in  the  papers 
who  is  travelling  from  California  to  Massachusetts.  His 
h  rse  and  cow  are  now  in  my  barn  ;  what  you  do  for  him 
remember  to  do  it  well  and  cheap."  "Yes,  I  will  remem 
ber  ;  where  is  your  carriage?"  "Over  at  the  stable,  let 
us  go  and  look  at  it."  We  went  back  to  the  stable  and 
the  blacksmith  examined  the  carriage  and  found  that  a 
bolt  would  make  all  right,  so  he  went  back  and  got  a  bolt 
and  put  it  in  its  place  ;  when  the  j  b  was  done  I  asked  him 


KELTON.  165 


/  i  O         •/ 

A  man  travelling  as  you  arei  should  be  kept  in 
ling  condition."       "Thank  you,  sir;  I  will  re- 


4 'How  much  shall  I  pay  you  ?"  The  blacksmith  answered, 
"I  have  done  as  John  wished  me.  I  have  put  in  a  good 
bolt,  it  is  well  done,  and  for  cheapness  I  will  charge  you 
nothing, 
g  od  running 

member  you  in  my  last  will  and  testament."  "You  have 
a  good  looking  horse,  and  I  think  she  is  as  good  as  she 
locks.  The  cow  is  a  beauty  ;  it  is  wonderful  that  she  has 
stood  the  j)urney  so  well.  I  should  suppose  that  she 
would  have  worn  out  her  feet  several  times."  "You  see 
she  travels  on  iron."  "Oh,  I  see,  she  has  on  shoes  made 
of  iron.  You  are  all  right." 


Kelton  is  a  first-class  station,  about  ninety  miles  from 
Ogden.  It  is  the  most  northerly  on  the  Central  Pacific 
Railroad.  Large  amounts  of  freight  are  brought  and  left 
at  this  station,  then  carried  by  teams  to  the  mountains 
around,  Idaho  city,  Bois  city,  Albion,  and  other  places. 

On  the  morning  of  the  21st,  I  was  up  us  usual,  that  is, 
early,  getting  ready  to  leave.  I  was  strongly  urged  to 
stay  and  get  breakfast  before  starting.  Having  been  well 
cared  for  I  could  but  stop  ;  a  good  breakfast  was  at  my 
disposal.  While  getting  my  breakfast  I  inquired  for  the 
lady  of  the  house,  when  soon  she  came.  I  bade  her  good 
morning  and  said,  "I  am  about  t3  leave  you  and  thought 
I  would  like  to  bid  you  good-bye."  "Why  need  you  start 
so  early?"  she  said.  "It  is  my  custom;  if  I  make  an 
early  start  I  can  make  a  l^ng  or  short  day  as  I  chqse.  I 
am  informed  that  I  shall  have  many  sloughs  to  get 
through.*  some  of  them  are  deep  and  will  be  troublesome 
to  get  through."  "Yes,  I  am  afraid  you  will,  and  bad  to 
get  over,  the  rain  we  had  a  day  or  two  ag  >  made  the  mar 
shes  bad.  I  suppose  it  will  be  cf  no  use  to  offer  you  any 
more  than  I  have  already  done  for  }*our  cow?"  "Madam, 
you  have  already  offered  me  more  than  she  is  worth.  I 


166  KELTON. 


have  been  told  many  times  that  I  could  not  get  her  East. 
At  all  times  I  have  thought  to  the  contrary,  and  it  is  my 
desire  to  give  it  a  fair  trial.  The  cow  has  not  been 
milked  this  morning,  but  I  intend  tcf,  give  me  a  pail  and 
I  will  milk  her.  I  milked  and  gave  the  lady  the  milking, 
saying,  "My  dear  friend,  this  is  all  I  can  do.  I  have  but 
one  dollar ;  that  is  all  the  money  I  possess.  I  have  as 
much  grain  as  will  last  me  to  C  <rinne.  Then  I  can  get  a 
sack  and  have  as  much  as  will  pay  for  the  same."  "Stran 
ger,  your  cow  has  paid  your  bill  and  more.  Here  is  a 
lunch  for  the  day,"  she  answered.  "Thank  you,  good 
morning."  "Good  morning,  I  hope  you  will  get  along 
all  right." 

It  was  just  six  o'clock  as  we  left  Kelton  and  on 
passing  the  blacksmith's  shop  he  called  out  to  me, 
"Here,  friend  traveller,  is  something  you  will  need  after 
crossing  the  sloughs.  It's  worth  all  I  ask.  You  can  not 
travel  until  you  get  rid  of  the  mud  ;  you  will  know  more 
after  you  have  crossed  one."  "What  do  you  ask  for  it?" 
"Oh,  I  sell  cheap.  It  will  be  nothing  to  you,  that  is 
cheap  enough."  After  thanking  him  I  moved  on,  soon 
coming  to  one  of  these  sloughs.  These  sloughs  are  fiat 
or  level  pieces  of  land,  of  from  forty  to  one  hundred  rods 
in  length,  composed  of  sand,  mixed  with  salt  and  alkali. 
When  rain  falls  on  this  soil,  it  becomes  soft  like  mortar, 
for  plastering.  It  is  not  deep,  from  one  to  three  inches, 
but  its  adhesion  to  the  boots,  wheels  or  feet  of  animals  is 
very  strong.  I  drove  on  to  this  slough, "mud  we  will  call 
it.  As  I  walked  through,  my  feet  seemed  to  double  in 
size ;  so  did  the  horses  and  cows,  and  the  rims  of  my 
wheels  became  very  thick  and  clumsy.  It  does  not  fall 
off  as  ordinary  mud  will ;  it  hangs  like  a  load-stone  until 
you  scrape  it  off  with  some  instrument ;  the  blacksmith 
had  given  me  the  right  kind  of  an  instrument,  it  was 
nothing  more  pi  less  than  a  shovel ;  the  blade  was  two 


LAKE  STATION.  167 


inches  wide,  three  inches  deep,  and  about  one-eighth  of  an 
inch  thick  and  about  one  foot  long.  After  crossing  one 
of  these  sloughs,  I  would  have  a  half  mile  or  more  of 
g  >od  road  before  coming  to  another.  After  passing 
through  one,  I  would  clean  off  the  mud  from  rny  boots, 
the  horse's  and  cow's  shoes  and  from  the  rims  of  my 
wheels,  but  with  the  latter  I  was  not  so  particular.  I 
found  it  best  to  remove  the  mud  at  once  before  it  became 
dry,  as  it  hardened  as  quick  as  cement.  In  travelling 
about  seven  miles  I  crossed  five  of  these  sloughs.  At 
noon  I  stopped,  giving  my  cattle  water,  and  grain  and 
took  a  bite  nryself.  About  half-past  one  we  passed  Mon 
ument  station,  making  no  stop,  and  about  four  o'clock  I 
made  Lake  station,  or  the  salt  works.  Here  I  stopped 
and  then  went  to  the  Lake.  This  lake  is  the  most  north 
ern  part  of  the  big  Salt  Lake ;  from  the  railroad  to  the 
lake  is  not  more  than  forty  rods.  At  this  point  of  the 
lake  the  water  is  very  dark  and  blue  and  very  strong  of 
salt ;  seventy-five  per  cent,  stronger  than  the  Pacific 
Ocean.  Here  I  was  advised  to  leave  the  railroad  and 
take  the  old  emigrant  trail,  which  would  bring  me  out  on 
the  railroad  near  to  Promontory ;  both  Royal  and  Pro 
montory  will  be  left  on  the  right.  Should  I  continue  on 
the  railroad  trail  I  would  encounter  many  sloughs.  I  was 
told  that  two  days  ago,  two  teams  attempted  to  come 
througli  on  this  trail,  and  one  of  the  wagons  had  to  be 
left  in  one  of  these  sloughs.  Crossing  the  railroa^  I  took 
the  left  trail  as  advised,  and  coming  to  a  small  creek  I 
stopped.  I  took  my  pail  and  filled  it  with  water,  I  tested 
it  and  found  it  of  a  salty  taste  and  hesitated  about  giving 
it  to  my  cattle,  not  knowing  what  its  effects  might  be  on 
them ;  both  were  thirst}^,  so  I  gave  them  a  drink  of  it 
and  moved  on  passing  Salt  Springs.  It  was  not  yet  time 
to  go  into  camp,  so  we  continued  further.  In  front  of 
me  there  was  a  tall  mountain.  My  trail  had  been  good 
and  still  was  excellent,  could  not  desire  better ;  but  what 


168  MOUNTAIN. 


would  be  next  I  could  not  tell.  I  went  on  and  soon 
came  to  another  trail  leading  to  my  right ;  this  is  the  old 
emigrant  trail  from  Ogden  to  Corinne,  Kelton,  Terrace, 
Wells  and  on  to  California.  The  mountain  which  was  in 
front)  is  now  on  my  left,  soon  there  will  be  one  on  my 
right,  and  then  I  shall  be  between  two  mountains  ;  this  is 
known  as  the  divide.  From  the  west  to  these  mountains 
the  ascent  is  sharp  and  heavT3T ;  from  the  east  the  ascension 
is  not  so  sharp,  but  it  is  long.  From  the  west  to  reach 
the  summit^  is  two  miles,  but  from  the  east  it  is  nine 
miles,  showing  plainly  the  difference  in  the  grade  from  the 
East  to  the  West.  When  I  reached  the  summit  it  was 
quite  dark,  so  we  went  into  camp 4 making  the  horse  fast 
to  the  right  rear  wheel  and  the  cow  opposite,  I  gave  them 
some  grain,  made  up  my  bed  and  laid  down,  but  sleep 
there  was  none  for  me,* it  appeared  the  longest  night  on 
my  whole  journey. 

On  the  morning  of  the  22nd  I  was  up  before  there  was 
any  light  in  the  east,  and  waited  anxiously  for  its  appear 
ance  so  that  I  could  move  on.  I  got  up  and  gave  the 
cattle  their  grain,  but  the}'  would  not  eat  it  as  they  were 
so  thirsty ;  the  salt  water  I  had  given  them  was  the  cause. 
Soon  I  saw  a  light  in  the  sky,  which  I  thought  was  in  the 
south,  but  which  I  found  came  from  the  east.  I  was 
anxious  to  move  on  to  get  rid  of  the  noise  and  the  pres 
ence  of  the  wolves,  which  had  been  ar  umd  us  all  night. 
Not  being  able  to  get  any  wood  for  a  fire  I  was  obliged  to 
keep  my  lantern  burning ;  but  that  was  not  enough,  they 
were  so  bold.  My  dog  I  kept  tied  up  that  he  might  not 
go  for  them  ;  once  I  came  very  near  losing  him  by  setting 
him  on  a  coyotte.  This  animal  turned  on  him  and  I  had 
to  go  to  his  rescue  to  save  him ;  since  then  I  have 
chained  the  dog  at  night.  The  lantern  alone  not  being 
enough  to  keep  the  wolves  awaj-,  I  poured  oil  on  the 
ground  and  set  it  on  fire  and  used  about  three  quarts  ;  I 


BLUE  CREEK.  169 


have  often  done  this  before.  It  having  now  grown  light 
I  moved  on,  leaving  my  camp  about  five  o'clock.  My 
road  was  a  down  grade  and  about  six  o'clock,  just  as  the 
sun  wag'  coming  up,  I  saw  to  my  left  a  herd  of  horses 
some  distance  away.  Grass  was  in  abundance  on  either 
side,  so  I  thought  I  would  stop  and  give  the  cattle  a 
chance  to  eat  it,  but  changed  my  mind  and  went  on. 
They  were  so  thirsty  that  I  thought  they  would  not  eat 
enough  to  do  them  any  good,  as  it  was  water  they  wanted 
and  must  have.  I  urged  them  on  and  travelled  now  at  a 
gait  of  three  miles  an  hour,  and  at  eight  o'clock  we  came 
in  sight  of  the  railroad.  I  was  glad  of  it  and  I  think  my 
cattle  were  also  ;  I  have  an  idea  that  they  knew  some 
things  as  well  as  I  did,  "and  don't  you  forget  it."  Soon 
I  was  on  the  railroad  trail  that  I  had  left  at  Lake  station. 
On  my  left  is  a  mountain  ;  the  old  trail  goes  over  it,  the 
railroad  trail  runs  around  it  with  the  track.  From  this 
point  over  the  mountain  to  Blue  Creek,  is  three  miles ; 
from  the  same  point  by  Blue  Creek  station,  by  railroad  is 
fourteen  miles ;  by  crossing  the  mountain  I  save  eleven 
miles.  This  is  one  of  the  instances  where  many  miles 
might  have  been  saved,  if  I  had  not  determined  to  follow 
the  railroad  where  possible,  and  which  I  have  done  most 
of  the  way. 

I  am  now  at  Blue  Creek  station.  Here  I  have  access 
to  water,  taken  and  brought  by  rail  from  Bear  river  to 
this  station.  My  first  care  was  to  water  my  cattle  as 
they  have  had  none  since  yesterday  morning,  except  the 
little  salt  water  I  gave  them.  I  gave  each  two  pails  at 
once  and  after  a  little  while  gave  them  two  more  and  then 
their  grain,  but  they  wanted  more  water,  so  I  again  gave 
them  two  pails  each  ;  this  appeared  to  satisfy  them. 

Blue  Creek  is  a  telegraph  station,  in  charge  of  a  Mrs. 
Nichols  and  son,  formerly  of  Vermont.  She  is  a  lady  in 


170  BLUE  CREEK. 


its  true  sense.  After  making  m}rself  known,  she  seemed 
quite  anxious  to  do  all  possible  for  our  convenience.  She 
asked  me  many  questions,  which  took  up  some  time,  then 
she  said,  "Stranger,  I  am  going  to  get  dinner  ready.  I 
am  out  of  most  everything  that  makes  a  good  dinner,  but 
will  do  the  best  I  can."  "Madam,  I  see  you  have  some 
fine  looking  peaches,  I  have  not  tested  them,  but  their 
looks  I  admire.  Now,  let  me  make  a  suggestion  ;  I  have 
a  cow  that  has  given  me  milk  ever  since  I  left  Eureka  and 
she  has  not  been  milked  to-day.  Have  you  ice?  I  will 
go  and  milk  her.  Now,  what  I  want,  is  some  of  those 
peaches  and  milk,  simple  and  good ;  madam,  what  have 
you  to  say?"  "Well,  stranger,  your  milk  I  think  much 
of;  it  will  be  a  luxury  to  me  and  my  son,  all  the  milk  we 
get  comes  from  the  city.  Now,  can  I  not  get  something 
you  would  like  better?"  "I  don't  think  you  can;  I 
really  would  like  some  of  those  peaches  in  milk.  There 
is  another  point,  I  cannot  st  >p  long,  I  must  make  Corinne 
to-night;  what  is  the  distance?"  "To  Corinne  is  seven 
teen  miles."  "It  will  take  me  seven  hours  to  make  that 
distance  ;  it  is  now  half-past  eleven  o'clock.  If  we  start 
from  here  at  one,  we  shall  get  there  about  seven  or  half- 
past."  "Well,  bread  and  milk  it  shall  be,"  said  the  lady. 
"I  would  rather  call  it  peaches  and  milk  it  shall  be."  "It 
won't  take  long  to  get  that  dinner,"  she  answered.  "That 
will  suit  me  better ;  the  dish  of  peaches  and  milk  takes 
the  place  of  meat.  If  you  have  something  that  would  be 
good  to  come  after,  bring  it  on,  we  will  look  at  it  quickly." 
While  she  was  getting  it  ready,  I  gave  my  cattle  some 
more  grain,  so  that  we  all  would  be  read}7  to  move  at  one. 
The  dinner  was  soon  ready  and  we  sat  down  to  a  dinner 
that  I  shall  long  remember.  At  one  o'clock  I  bade  the 
lady  good-bye,  thanking  her  for  the  hospitality  I  had  re 
ceived.  I  kept  on  the  old  trail,  following  it  for  some  four 
miles.  I  found  that  this  trail  went  to  Corinne,  but  it  was 
going  to  make  twenty- fiv^  miles  more  of  travel,  so  I  at 


CORINNE.  171 


once  left  this  trail  and  struck  across  to  the  railroad  trail 
coming  to  Quarry  station.  From  this  place  to  Corinnc 
was  a  good  road  all  the  way,  and  we  reached  Corinne 
about  dark.  A  little  distance  off  I  saw  a  man  with  a  lan 
tern  go  into  a  barn,  and  I  went  for  him  as  he  was  coming 
out  and  said,  "Good  evening.  Friend,  I  have  just  ar 
rived  in  town,1 1  have  a  horse  and  cow  and  wish  to  stop 
for  the  night ;  I  would  like  some  hay  for  my  cattle*  can 
you  accommodate  me,  sir?"  "I  have  hay;  stranger, 
which  way  are  }'ou  travelling,  sir?"  "I  am  travelling 
East."  "Travelling  East,  sir,"  he  repeated  and  then 
stepped  out  t  >  where  my  cattle  was.  "You  say  you  have 
come  from  the  west,  sir.  What  part  of  the  west?" 
"From  California."  "What,  with  that  horse,  carriage 
and  cow  ;  you  must  be  the  man  I  read  about  in  a  western, 
paper,  who  is  going  East?"  "Yes,  sir;  I  think  I  am. 
The  papers  are  ahead  of  me."  "Lead  your  horse  up  to 
the  barn,  take  her  from  the  carriage,  remove  the  harness 
and  put  her  in  that  stall ;  the  cow,  what  shall  we  do  with 
her?"  "She  will  stand  beside  the  horse'she  knows  her 
very  well."  "Well,  put  the  cow  beside  the  horse  and 
give  them  all  the  hay  they  will  eat ;  grain,  do  they  know 
what  it  is?"  "Yes,  |ir ;  they  have  had  grain  every  day 
since  I  left  home."  "Home!  where  is  your  home?" 
"My  home  is  in  Massachusetts ;  when  I  said  home,  I 
meant  where  I  started  from."  "What  part  of  California 
did  y^u  start  ftvm,  sir?"  "From  the  northern  part, 
Eureka  city,  Humboldt  Bay."  "That  is  a  long  distance  ; 
more  than  a  thousand  miles."  "Yes,  sir;  more  than 
three  hundred  north  of  San  Francisco."  "Well,  sir; 
you  have  done  well,  but  }rou  have  not  gone  half  the  way 
yet."  "No,  sir  ;  not  more  than  a  quarter."  "Come  into 
the  house  and  get  something  to  eat^our  cattle  are  doing 
well."  We  went  into  the  house,  my  host  saying,  "Wife, 
here  is  a  man  that  has  travelled  more  than  thirteen  hun 
dred  miles,  with  a  horse  and  carriage,  and  leading  a  cow 


172  CORINNE. 


all  that  distance.  This  is  the  man  we  read  of  in  the 
papers  coming  from  California  to  Massachusetts.  I  have 
just  put  his  cattle  in  the  barn  and  they  are  feeding 
on  hay,  and  I  asked  him  in  to  get  something  to  eat ;  what 
have  3Tou  g  t  that  is  good  for  him?  I  think  he  is  worthy 
of  something  good."  "I  can  give  him  such  as  we  have 
had  for  supper."  "Can't  you  do  a  little  better?  I  do  not 
think  we  shall  ever  put  up  another  man  that  has  travel 
led  that  distance  with  a  single  horse,  carriage  and  leading 
a  cow.  No,  I  think  this  is  the  last  man,  I  am  sure  he  is 
the  first.  Go  on,  and  what  you  omit  to-night,  make  up 
in  the  morning."  "You  are  right,  sir;  madam,  do  not 
trouble  }Tourself  in  the  least."  "Stranger,  sit  up  to  the 
table  and  take  a  lunch  ;  to-morrow  morning  we  will  have 
something  to  make  up  for  this."  After  supper  I  went 
back  to  the  barn  and  gave  the  cattle  more  hay  and  some 
grain.  Then  I  did  not  recollect  having  loosened  my  dog, 
so  I  went  and  got  him  and  returned  back  to  the  house. 
The  wife  then  asked,  "Has  that  dog  too,  come  all  that 
way?"  "He  has,"  I  answered.  "Oh,  you  little  beauty, 
you  shall  have  some  supper."  "Well,  stranger,  there  are 
many  questions  I  would  like  to  ask  3'ou,  but  you  must  be 
weary;  how  far  have  you  come  to-day?"  "I  do  not 
know  the  distance ;  yesterday  I  left  Kelt"»n,  taking  the 
railroad  trail  as  far  as  Lake  station.  Then  I  left  the  rail 
road  trail,  following  the  left  trail  over  the  mountains,  or 
divide,  coming  back  into  the  old  trail  and  on  reaching  the 
summit  I  camped  there."  "Have  JTOII  come  from  there 
to-day?"  "I  have."  "You  have  travelled  thirty  miles  ; 
wife,  think  of  that !  Thirty  miles  that  cow  has  travelled 
in  one  day."  "I  travel  two  and  a  half  miles  to  the  hour, 
day  or  night.  If  I  travel  ten  hours,  I  make  twent}T-five 
miles ;  I  left  Blue  Creek  at  one  o'clock  and  have  come 
seventeen  miles  since  that  time.  It  is  not  a  hard  pull  but 
a  steady  one;  how  far  is  it  to  Ogden?"  "Thirty-five 
miles."  "To-morrow  I  will  make  there,*it  is  a  good  road 


CORINNE.  173 


I  suppose?"  "Yes,  it  is  a  good  r;:ad.  We  Mormons 
have  good  roads."  "Are  there  many  Mormons  in  Cor. 
inne?"  "We  are  all  Mormons,  here."  "Are  you  a  Mor 
mon?"  "Yes,  I  am  ;  are  you  a  Mormon?"  "I  suppose 
not ;  I  know  but  little  about  Mormonism,  but  I  have 
heard  much  about  them.  If  you  are  a  Mormon  you  are 
the  first  one  that  I  ever  became  acquainted  with.  Before 
leaving  California,  my  folks  said  all  they  could  to  dis 
suade  and  discourage  me,  and  endeavored  to  get  the 
neighbors  also  to  intercede  with  me,  not  to  take  this  jour 
ney,  but  I  was  determined  to  go  East  on  this  plan.  They 
told  me  I  could  not  travel  with  a  one-horse  team  ;  that  it 
was  not  safe  to  travel  alone  ;  that  the  wild  beasts  would 
devour  me  ;  that  the  Indians  would  take  my  scalp ;  that 
the  Mormons  would  surety  kill  me ;  that  I  could  not 
travel  in  Utah,  and  I  ought  not  to  make  the  attempt.  All 
this  was  said  before  I  left,  but  on  the  first  of  June  I  left 
Eureka  city,  and  have  travelled  about  fourteen  hundred 
miles,  and  not  an  injur}7,  or ,  as  yet,  an  insult  has 
come  to  me.  You  say  that  }rou  are  Mormons  ;  if  you  are, 
I  shall  never  be  afraid  of  the  Mormons  in  the  least. 
Well,  friend  Mormon,  if  you  will  go  with  me  to  the  barn, 
you  may  lock  me  in  if  you  wish?"  "We  have  no  locks 
on  our  barns  ;  we  are  not  afraid  of  any  one."  "Do  you 
not  have  tramps  come  around?"  "Yes,  there  are  some 
on  the  railroad,  but  they  don't  trouble  us.  You  can 
sleep  in  the  house  ;  we  will  give  you  a  bed."  "I  prefer 
to  sleep  with  my  cattle  and  have  done  so  all  the  time  on 
this  journey."  "Very  well,  suit  yourself."  1  went  to  the 
barn,  gave  the  animals  some  more  hay,  made  me  a  bed 
and  was  soon  asleep. 

The  morning  of  the  23rd  found  me  up  early.  There 
was  no  one  up  in  the  house,  I  fed  my  cattle  and  made 
ready  to  move  on.  While  they  were  eating  I  took  a 
tramp  around  the  town  ;  on  my  return  I  found  my  friend 


174  CORINNE. 


at  the  barn,  to  whom  I  bade  good  morning.  "Good 
morning,  sir;  how  did  you  rest  last  night?"  "I  had  a 
good  rest."  "I  am  glad  of  it  for  your  sake.  We  are  up 
early  this  morning,  as  we  thought  you  would  like  an  early 
start ;  I  suppose  you  will  make  O^den  to-day?"  "Yes, 
sir ;  I  would  like  to  do  so."  "You  will  have  a  good  road, 
no  better,  east  or  west ;  you  will  find  it  as  I  say.  Our 
breakfast  must  be  ready*  we  will  go  in  and  see."  We 
went  into  the  house  and  as  I  entered  I  bade  the  lady 
good  morning.  "Good  morning,  sir  ;  did  you  rest  well 
last  night?"  she  asked.  "Very  well,  thank  you." 
Breakfast  is  ready,  take  a  seat  at  the  table.  Stranger, 
will  you  give  thanks?"  "Please  excuse  me."  Then  my 
host  said,  "Our  Father  in  Heaven,  we  thank  Thee  this 
morning,  that  we  are  again  permitted  to  come  round  this 
table.  Bless  this  food,  may  it  strengthen  us  in  body ; 
and  our  faith  in  Thee  we  will  ever  proclaim.  This  stran 
ger,  O  God,  Thou  hast  protected  him  on  his  long  road  so 
far,  please  continue  on,  watch  over  him  both  day  and 
night ;  see  him  through  this  long  journey,  if  it  be  Thy  will, 
Amen."  The  foregoing  is  the  prayer  and  utterance  of 
a  Mormon. 

Corinne  is  situated  on  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad, 
about  twenty-five  miles  from  Ogden.  It  was  laid  out  for 
a  large  city.  Large  quantities  of  freight  were  brought 
and  taken  north  by  teams  to  Montana  and  Idaho.  But 
since  the  building  of  the  Utah  Northern  Railroad,  it  has 
been  on  the  decline,  and  doubtful  if  it  ever  will  come  up 
again,  at  least  for  the  present.  But  should  the  contem 
plated  railroad  between  Dakota  and  Wyoming  ever  be 
built,  its  junction  will  probably  be  at  Corinne.  The  Cen 
tral  desires  a  line  of  their  own  to  the  East. 

On  le?ving  Corinne  I  left  the  railroad  to  my  right,  my 
direction  being  south  to  Brigham  city,  crossing  Bear 


WAHSHAT  RANGE. 


175 


river,  distance  about  four  miles  :  on  entering  the  town  I 
travelled  but  one  street  to  the  main  road  to  Ogden. 
Beautiful  was  the  water  running  down  the  gutters  of  the 
street ;  it  seemed  delightful.  But  being  late  and  also 
anxious  to  reach  Ogden  I  did  not  stop.  A  short  distance  to 
my  left  is  Wahshat  range  of  mountains.  On  my  right  is 
Salt  Lake  and  Valley.  The  foot-hills  of  this  mountain 
range  is  of  the  best  soil  and  under  good  cultivation  by  the 
Mormons.  What  a  contrast,  from  what  I  have  passed 
through,  on  coming  to  such  beautiful  farms  as  the  Mor 
mons  have  made  on  the  west  of  this  long  range  of  moun 
tains.  Some  are  so  close  to  the  mountain's  base^  that  the 
morning's  sun  is  hidden  for  some  time.  About  twelve  at 
noon,  I  came  to  a  farm  house,  where  I  stopped.  There 
was  plenty  of  hay  here,  and  a  man  was  husking  corn  to 
whom  I  bade  g  >od  morning,  and  then  said,  "I  would  like 
some  hay  for  my  cattle,  but  I  have  no  money,  not  a  dime. 
I  paid  the  last  dime  in  Corinne  for  a  sack  of  grain  ;  when 
I  reach  Ogden  I  hope  to  be  replenished."  "Your  cattle 
can  have  all  the  hay  they  can  eat  in  two  hours,*  I  will  not 
charge  }rou  an}Tthing."  I  gave  the  cattle  some  water  and 
hay  ;  splendid  hay  it  was,  known  as  alfalfa.  "You  are 
travelling,  it  seems?"  "Yes,  sir."  "How  far  have  you 
come,  sir?"  "I  have  come  from  California,  and  have 
travelled  more  than  fourteen  hundred  miles  since  I  left 
my  home,  or  where  I  have  been  staying  in  California  the 
past  two  years  ;  I  am  on  my  way  home."  "Home,  where 
is  your  home?"  "Massachusetts  is  my  home."  "Do 
you  ever  expect  to  reach  Massachusetts  in  this  way,  with 
that  outfit?"  "Yes,  sir."  "That  is  a  long  distance; 
come  in  and  take  dinner  with  us,'  }rour  cattle  are  doing 
well,-  let  them  eat  all  they  will."  I  went  in  and  took  din 
ner  with  the  stranger.  There  were  four  of  us  sat  at  din 
ner,  two  men  and  two  women.  One  of  the  women  asked, 
"Are  you  a  Mormon?"  "I  am  not,  that  is,  I  suppose  I 
am  not;  I  have  but  one  wife.  I  suppose  the  Mormons 


176  HOT    SPRINGS. 


have  as  many  as  they  desire?"  "They  are  allowed  to 
have  as  many  as  they  can  support,  but  they  are  getting 
sick  of  that ;  they  do  not  care  to  support  but  one,  and 
not  half  support  that  one  ;  they  would  rather  do  as  you 
do  down  East,  one  wife  or  none.  It  is  coming  to  that 
here*  polygamy  is  playing  out."  "Are  you  Mormons?" 
uWe  are,  but  we  don't  go  f«>r  polygamy.  We  belong  to 
the  Josephites."  "Are  there  many  of  that  order?" 
"There  are  many  of  them,  and  it  will  not  be  long  before 
we  are  in  the  majority."  "Well,  strangers,  I  must  be 
moving  on  ;  how  far  is  it  to  Ogden?"  "To  the  post-office 
it  is  fourteen  miles  ;  how  long  will  it  take  you  to  travel 
that  distance ?"  About  five  hours,  on  a  good  road."  "It 
is  a  good  road."  "Thank  you,  for  your  hospitality." 
"You  are  welcome,  and  I  hope  }'ou  will  make  your  long 
journey."  "Thank  you,  good  day."  "Good  day,  call 
again."  We  went  on  and  about  half-past  three  p.  m.,  I 
passed  through  Hot  Springs.  Here  there  are  two  roads 
to  Ogden  ;  the  one  to  the  right  is  the  nearest,  but  there 
are  a  number  of  sloughs  to  pass  over  ;  the  one  to  the  left 
is  the  best,  but  it  is  the  longest.  I  took  the  left  r  ad  and 
soon  I  came  to  a  peach  orchard  ;  how  beautiful  it  looked.  I 
stopped  and  accosted  a  lady  in  the  yard,  saying  "Madam, 
can  I  take  some  of  the  peaches  that  are  on  the  ground  ?" 
"Yes,  sir;  all  you  wish."  I  had  a  four  quart  measure 
which  I  filled  and  put  them  in  my  wagon.  "You  may 
fill  it  again  if  you  wish,"  said  the  lady.  I  did  so  and 
then  went  on.  Coming  to  a  broad  road  and  turning 
sharp  to  my  right  we  travelled  this  road.  The  road  here 
was  about  one  hundred  feet  wide.  Here  I  was  told  it 
was  four  miles  to  the  post-office  in  Ogden ;  we  went  on 
and  came  to  a  more  thickly  settled  district ;  passed  some 
splendid  farms  with  fine  orchards  of  all  kinds  of  fruit, 
and  on  either  side  many  new  houses  built  of  brick.  They 
are  small,  but  neat  and  pretty.  The  sun  is  now  going 
down  and  I  asked  a  stranger  how  far  it  was  to  Ogden. 


THE  RANCHE.  177 


He  answered.  "Two  miles."  "Where  can  I  stop  to 
night?"  "Yonder,  yon  see  that  large  barn,  a  man  by  the 
name  of  MillerJ  lives  there ;  he  has  plenty  of  room  and 
hay.  He  is  a  fine  man  and  will  keep  you,  no  doubt,  over 
night.  I  went  there  and  turned  into  the  yard  and  inquired 
if  Mr.  Miller  Avas  at  home.  "He  is  not,  but  soon  will 
be ;  he  has  g  me  down  town  with  the  milk,"  said  the  ]ad}\ 
Soon  after  a  man  drove  into  the  yard  and  I  asked  him, 
"Is  this  Mr.  Miller?"  "Yes,  sir ;  that  is  my  name." 
"Would  you  allow  me  to  camp  in  this  yard,  and  I  would 
like  some  hay  for  my  cattle."  "Yes,  }rou  can  camp  here, 
and  have  hay  for  your  cattle  also."  I  led  Fannie  into  the 
yard,  took  her  from  the  carriage  and  fastened  her  to  the 
wheel  as  usual,  the  cow  opposite  and  gave  them  alfalfa 
hay;  it  is  the  best  hay  for  a  cow  that  is  grown..  "You 
are  travelling  ;  are  you?"  "Yes,  sir."  "Have  you  been 
buying  a  cow?"  "No,  sir;  not  of  late."  "How  far 
have  you  led  that  cow?"  "A  long  distance."  "How 
long  a  distance?"  "About  fourteen  hundred  miles." 
"The  d — 1  you  have  ;  where  from?  Tell  me  that,  so  that 
I  can  judge  the  distance?"  "You  say  your  name  is 
Miller?"  "Yes,  sir  ;  my  name  is  Miller."  "Mr.  Miller, 
I  have  come  all  the  way  from  California  to  this  place." 
"I  can't  believe  you."  "Mr.  Miller,  I  want  to-stop  over 
a  day  or  two,  and  will  satisfy  you  that  I  am  not  a  fraud. 
How  far  is  it  to  the  post-office  from  here?"  "It  is  less 
than  two  miles."  "I  suppose  there  is  some  mail  there, 
which  I  ordered  to  be  sent  and  held  until  called  for." 
"Where  were  you  when  you  gave  that  order?"  "In  San 
Francisco.  I  mean  what  I  say,  ever}r  time,  don't  you 
forget  it."  "You  look  like  a  man  that  speaks  the  truth, 
but  you  are  getting  off  some  yarn  ;  what  is  your  name, 
sir?"  "I  have  but  one  name  ;  Johnson  is  my  name,  at 
all  times  and  places."  "Well,  Mr.  Johnson,  come  into 
the  house,  we  will  get  some  supper,  I  have  not  had  any 
yet,  and  presume  you  have  not."  "I  have  not,  and  would 


1  78  THE  RANCHE, 


like  some."  I  went  into  the  house,  sat  down  to  supper 
and  the  man  said  to  his  wife,  "This  man  tells  me  some 
big  stories.  He  says  he  has  travelled  over  fourteen  hun 
dred  miles,  with  that  horse  and  carriage,  leading  the  cow* 
what  do  }"ou  think  of  it,  wife?"  "Where  did  you  come 
from?"  she  asked.  "From  California,  direct."  "But  it 
is  not  fourteen  hundred  miles  to  San  Francisco ;  only 
about  a  thousand,  your  story  does  not  agree  with  that 
distance."  "Very  well,  I  now  have  to  tell  }'ou  more  than 
I  had  intended  ;  I  have  but  one  story  to  tell.  When  tell 
ing  the  whole  it  is  a  long  one  ;  when  I  can  get  rid  of  tell 
ing  it,  it  gives  me  rest,  but  I  will  tell  you  the  long  story, 
no  doubt  you  will  pay  me  something  for  it."  "Go  on,  we 
will  see."  "But  I  want  to  be  excused  at  this  time,  as  I 
wish  to  go  down  town  to  the  post-office  for  my  mail.  I 
have  had  no  mail  since  leaving  San  Francisco.  I  sent  my 
pension  papers  to  Boston,  giving  my  post-office  address 
at  Ogden.  I  except  there  is  a  check  there  waiting  for  me." 
"The  post-office  is  already  closed  for  the  night,' you  can 
not  have  access  to  it,  and  to-morrow  is  Sunday ;  it  will 
be  open  at  six  to-morrow  evening."  "Then  I  must  wait 
patiently  until  to-morrow."  "Yes,  sir;  you  must." 
"Why  did  I  not  start  sooner  this  morning  from  Corinne, 
so  that  I  could  have  arrived  sooner?  Oh,  I  see  ;  I  stop 
ped  too  long  at  dinner  talking  with  the  Mormons  ;  that  is 
what  is  the  matter."  "Yes,  Mormon  women,  I  suppose." 
"Are  you  Mormons?"  "No,  sir;  we  are  not  Mormons 
here."  "I  supposed  you  were  all  Mormons  here?"  "No, 
sir  ;  not  a  bit  of  it.  My  wife  was  a  Mormon  before  she 
was  married,  but  since  her  marriage  she  is  strongly  anti- 
Mormon."  "I  know  nothing  about  Mormonism,  only  what 
I  have  heard."  After  supper  I  remarked,  By  the  way, 
my  cow  is  good  for  milk."  "Does  she  give  milk?"  asked 
the  lady.  "She  does,  I  milk  her  every  day,  and  some 
times  four  times  a  day,  but  not  often.  Mr.  Miller,  I 
would  like  to  stop  here  a  day  or  two,  or  a  short  time 


THE  RANCHE.  179 


before  I  go  on  further."  "Go  on  ;  where  are  you.  going 
to?"  "Oh,  I  have  not  got  to  my  journey's  end  yet.  Mr. 
Miller,  I  do  not  see  that  I  can  avoid  telling  you  the  whole 
story.  Sometimes,  I  endeavor  to  get  rid  of  telling  it,"  I 
prefer  a  short  story  to  a  long  one,  and  should  I  ever  put 
it  in  a  book  it  would  be  the  same  story  over  and  over. 
Mr.  Miller,  I  will  give  you  the  facts  as  briefly  as  I  can.  On 
the  first  of  June  last,  I  was  three  hundred  miles  north  of 
San  Francisco  ;  on  that  day  I  left  Eureka  city,  Humboldt 
county,  with  that  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog,  for  Massa 
chusetts.  Travelled  from  Eureka  to  San  Francisco  and 
remained  in  that  city  some  ten  days  ;  then  I  went  to  San 
Jose  expressly  to  see  the  place,  having  heard  so  much 
about  it.  This  was  directly  out  of  my  way,  fifty- 
seven  miles.  I  did  not  return  to  San  Francisco,  but 
struck  off  to  the  right  through  Livermore  Valley,  Liver- 
more  Pass  into  the  San  Joaquin  Valley  to  Stockton. 
From  there  to  Sacramento  and  on  to  Gold  Run  ;  return 
ing  back  by  Colfax  to  Grass  Valley.  There  taking  the 
old  turnpike,  known  as  the  Virginia  and  Marysville  turn 
pike  to  Reno,  or  Verdi,  twelve  miles  west  from  Reno. 
This  turnpike  was  built  on  the  Henness  Pass,  on  the 
north  side  of  the  Sierra  Mountains.  From  Reno  I  fol 
lowed  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad  most  of  the  way  to 
here.  From  Eureka  to  Ogden,  the  way  I  have  come,  it  is 
1427  miles.  I  do  not  intend  to  stop  here  any  length  of 
time  but  to  pass  on,  Mr.  Miller,  so  far,  this  is  true  ; 
now  you  can  ask  me  any  questions  you  choose,  such  as, 
how  could  I  make  this  or  that ;  whether  or  not  I  was 
troubled  with  the  wild  beasts,  or  the  Indians  or  the  Mor 
mons.  Mr.  Miller,  I  can  say  that  I  have  not  been  insult 
ed  by  man  or  woman,  since  leaving  Eureka.  I  can  relate 
many  instances  of  travel,  that  no  doubt  would  be  of  much 
interest,  and  will  do  so  should  I  remain  a  short  time 
with  you,  but  I  do  not  intend  to  stop  long,  if  I  do,  I  may 
get  snow-bound  in  travelling  over  the  Rocky  Mountains. 


180  OGDEN. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  CITY  OF  OGDEN. 

Oh  the  morning  of  the  24th,  Sunday,  after  breakfast,  I 
went  down  into  the  city  looking  around.  My  attention 
was  called  to  a  gathering  of  the  people  at  a  given  place. 
On  inquiring  the  cause,  I  learned  that  there  was  a  mass 
meeting  at  the  Tabernacle  by  the  Mormons,  in  regard  to 
the  ''Edmunds  bill,"  then  passed  by  Congress.  "What  is 
this  bill,"  I  asked.  "The  bill  disfranchises  those  Mor 
mons  that  have  more  than  one  wife,  Mr.  Stranger."  "I 
have  heard  nothing  about  it,"  I  answered.  "It  is  going 
to  make  hot  work  here."  I  went  up  to  the  Tabernacle  ; 
it  was  full  and  hundreds  were  standing  outside.  I  step 
ped  up  to  a  well  dressed  gentleman,  bidding  him  good 
morning,  and  I'remarked  that  this  was  a  large  gathering. 
"What  is  itf  >r?"  "The  cause  is  this  :  Those  Mormons  who 
believe  in  Polygamy  are  not  to  be  allowed  to  vote  at  the 
coming  election  by  the  new  law  of  Mr.  Edmunds,  and  it 
will  make  hot  work  here,  stranger."  "I  am  a  stranger 
here,  and  have  but  just  arrived  from  the  West.  It  is 
my  intention  to  remain  but  a  day  or  two  ;  I  am  in  camp 
about  two  miles  north  of  this  place,  on  Mr.  Miller's 
ranche,  he  is  a  milk  merchant ;  perhaps  you  know  him  ?" 
I  remarked.  About  noon  I  returned  to  my  camp  and 
gave  my  cattle  their  dinner,  took  a  lunch  myself  and 
then  returned  to  the  city  to  wait  for  the  opening  of 
the  Post  Office.  I  was  the  first  at  the  office  to  call  for 
mail,  asking  if  there  were  any  for  Warren  B.  Johnson, 
and  was  told  there  was  nothing.  I  then  told  the 
Postmaster  there  should  be,  as  before  leaving  San 


OGDEN.  181 


Francisco,  California,  I  sent  my  pension  papers  to  Boston 
for  collection,  ordering  them  to  be  sent  to  Ogden,  Utah, 
and  there  held  until  called  for.  When  giving  him  this  in 
formation  he  ordered  me  to  pass  on,  but  I  stood  there 
until  the  crowd  of  people  in  my  rear  pushed  me  away 
from  the  window,  then  I  said,  "Gentlemen,  this  is  not 
fair,  I  am  a  traveller  from  the  far  West.  On  the  15th  of 
July,  at  San  Francisco,  California,  I  sent  my  pension 
papers  to  Boston,  Mass.,  f  jr  collection,  to  be  returned 
to  Ogden,  Utah  Territory,  there  to  be  held  until  my  ar 
rival.  Now  I  am  here  and  there  seems  t  J  be  no  mail  for 
me.  I  have  been  ejected  from  that  window  on  account  of 
trying  to  explain  and  learn  particulars  about  my  mail." 
"Stranger,  you  shall  have  a  hearing,"  said  a  voice  from 
the  crowd.  "Post  master,  hear  what  the  stranger  has  tJ 
say  about  his  mail."  "Stranger,  come  to  the  window,  I 
will  hear  what  3rou  have  to  say."  I  then  told  him  the  par 
ticulars  and  asked  if  there  had  been  any  mail  for  Warren 
B.  Johnson  at  his  office  and  returned  to  Boston,  Massa 
chusetts.  "No,  sir;  not  to  my  recollection,"  answered 
the  Post  master.  I  turned  to  the  crowd  and  said,  "Gen 
tlemen,  I  am  a  stranger/in  a  strange  land  and  have  come 
all  the  way  from  San  Francisco  with  a  horse,  carriage, 
cow  and  little  dog ;  I  am  without  money — not  a  dime. 
When  I  left  Kelton  I  had  one  dollar,  that  was  all.  On 
my  arrival  in  Corinne  I  spent  that  dollar  for  a  sack  of 
grain  for  my  cattle  and  am  here  without  a  dime.  I  was 
sure  that  on  my  arrival  I  should  find  in  the  mail  a  letter 
containing  a  check  for  me,  but  there  is  no  mail — no 
check."  "Stranger,  where  is  your  horse,  carriage,  cow 
and  dog?"  "Gentlemen,  here  is  the  dog  beside  me." 
(Holding  him  up.)  "The  horse,  carriage  and  cow  are  at 
Mr.  Miller's  ranche,'  about  two  miles  from  here.  Mr. 
Miller  is  a  milk  merchant,  I  am  informed."  "You  are 
all  right  with  Mr.  Miller,"  said  a  voice  in  the  crowd. 
Here  I  am,  what  shall  I  do  next?  I  went  to  the  telegraph 


182  OGDEN. 


office  and  asked  the  operator  if  he  would  send  a  second- 
class  despatch  to  Boston,  Mass.,  for  me,  and  how  much 
it  would  cost.  He  answered,  "One  dollar,  sir." 

"Please  ask  H  W.  Gooch,  Pension  Agent,  Boston, 
Mass.,  where  my  pension  papers  are,  that  I  ordered  to  be 
sent  to  Ogden,  Utah  Territory.  They  are  not  here, 
answer. 

WARREN  B.  JOHNSON. 
Ogden,  Sept.  24th,  1882. 

I  waited  four  days,  but  got  no  answer  and  on  the  28th 
I  sent  a  note  giving  full  particulars.  On  the  2d  of 
October  I  sent  another  telegram,  and  on  the  7th  I  re 
ceived  a  despatch,  saying,  "No  voucher  received;  will 
send  blank  by  mail."  On  the  13th  I  received  a  blank  to  be 
filled  and  on  the  14th  I  filled  the  blank  and  sent  it  back  to 
Boston.  On  the  30th  of  October  I  received  my  mail 
which  I  ought  to  have  had  by  the  24th  ;  this  made  a  delay 
of  thirty-six  days.  Having  received  my  money,  on  the 
first  of  November  I  was  ready  to  move  forward,  and 
should  have  done  so  but  I  was  advised  not  to  do  so  by  my 
many  friends,  Mormon  and  Gentile,  I  had  made  on  being 
obliged  to  stop  here.  They  told  me  I  could  not  cross  the 
Rocky  Mountains  so  late  in  the  season.  I  should  perish 
in  the  snow  storms  and  would  be  neither  able  to  re  treat  or 
advance,  so  I  concluded  to  winter  in  Ogden.  Before  re 
lating  my  journey  any  further,  I  will  state  that  my  mail, 
which  is  my  present  text,  was  sent  from  Boston  to  Ogden, 
and  returned  to  Boston.  It  showed  that  it  had  travelled 
the  road  three  times.  After  deciding  to  remain  through 
the  winter,  my  first  thoughts  were  to  procure  a  stable  for 
my  cattle.  I  could  get  one,  but  the  rent  was  more  than  I 
could  pay.  I  was  recommended  by  a  Mormon  friend,  to 
another  Mormon,  to  allow  me  to  put  up  a  small  stable, 
10x16,  on  some  of  her  land,  which  she  granted.  I  then 
went  to  a  lumber  dealer,  he  a  Mormon,  and  selected  such 
lumber  as  I  needed,  and  put  up  the  stable  myself;  cost  of 
lumber,  nails,  bolts,  screws,  thirty- two  dollars,  all  told. 


OGDEN.  183 


This  stable  contained  160  square  feet;  I  gave  90  feet  to 
my  cattle,  leaving  70  feet  for  myself,  hay  and  grain.  This 
was  my  home  for  nearly  eight  months.  While  here  I  be 
came  acquainted  with  the  leading  men  of  the  city,  most 
of  whom  were  Mormons  ;  about  four-fifths  of  the  popula 
tion  were  Mormons.  I  could  not  tell  one  from  a  Gentile, 
only  when  talking  on  the  Edmunds  bill,  then  you  would 
readily  know,  as  they  spoke  strongly  against  it  every 
time,  and  don't  you  forget  it.  I  never  had  any  trouble 
whatever  with  the  people.  On  my  arrival  in  Ogden  I 
stayed  with  Mr.  Miller  some  two  weeks  or  more  and  all 
this  time  I  was  in  and  out  of  the  city,  tiding  to  learn  the 
whereabouts  of  my  mail.  On  the  9th  of  October  we  had 
a  very  severe  thunder  storm,  which  left  its  mark  behind, 
consisting  of  rain,  hail  and  snow.  So  severe  was  it  that 
the  fall  of  snow  was  so  deep,  the  people  were  obliged  to 
drive  the  cattle  into  the  barns  ;  this  storm  was  an  experi 
ence  for  me.  I  was  obliged  to  look  f  >r  better  quarters 
for  myself  and  cattle.  On  returning  from  the  city  after 
the  storm  I  was  overtaken  by  a  fine  looking  3'oung  man. 
After  talking  with  him  I  related  my  circumstances,  how  I 
was  situated  at  that  time.  Said  he,  "I  think  that  my 
father  would  give  you  barn  room  for  your  cattle  ;  I  am 
not  sure,  but  think  he  will."  "Where  is*  your  home?"  I 
asked.  "Only  a  few  steps  above  the  first  house  on  the 
left,  you  had  better  call  and  see  my  father,"  said  the 
young  man.  I  went  with  him  to  his  home,  He  said, 
"Father,  please  step  to  the  door;  this  stranger  is  travel 
ling  from  the  West  and  is  going  East.  He  has  been  stop 
ping  with  Mr.  Miller  and  is  obliged  to  leave  on  account  of 
barn  room.  I  told  him  that  I  thought  you  would  give 
him  barn  room  for  a  short  time."  About  how  long  would 
you  like  to  stop,  sir?"  "Not  longer  than  time  enough 
for  me  to  get  my  mail  from  Boston,  Mass.,"  I  answered. 
"Yes,  stranger  ;  I  will  accommodate  you."  I  went  home 
and  returned  with  my  outfit.  Here  I  remained  until  my 


184  OGDEN. 


stable  was  read}'  for  dedication.       After  the  dedication  I 
gave  my  cattle  possession  "with  right  of  way." 

Ogden  is  situated  on  the  west  of  the  Wahsatch  moun 
tain,  close  to  its  base,  fronting  Ogden  canyon  and  river. 
When  the  Mormons  t  ;ok  possession  of  these  lands,  they 
laid  out  a  road  one  hundred  and  thirty-two  feet  wide,  six 
miles  long,  and  commenced  the  building  of  their  cabins  on 
this  road,  equal  distances  apart.  When  the  Atlantic  and 
Pacific  Railroad  passed  through  the  town,  they  established 
their  depot  near  the  river,  on  account  of  the  water.  This 
was  south  of  its  centre  of  population.  The  Mormons 
built  their  Tabernacle  south  of  its  centre.  The  two  rail 
roads  establishing  their  depot  where  they  have,  soon 
made  Ogden  a  fine  ctty,  with  a  population  of  about  eight 
thousand.  The  Mormons  having  by  far  the  greatest  pop 
ulation,  they  have  several  places  of  worship,  but  the 
Tabernacle  is  their  chief  place.  There  are  several 
other  churches,  Episcopal,  Baptist  and  Catholic.  There 
are  three  banks ;  two  are  National.  The  cashier  of 
the  First  National,  Mr.  Young,  told  me  that  the  di 
rectors  of  this  bank  represented  three  million  dollars. 
There  are  several  hotels,  one  of  these  is  a  very  fine  one, 
the  Brown  Hotel ;  it  surpasses  any  hotel  east  of  San 
Francisco,  for  thousands  of  miles ;  that  takes  you  east 
to  Cleveland,  Ohio.  There  are  many  first-class  stores 
for  the  sale  of  all  kinds  of  merchandise  and  the  proprie 
tors  are  mostly  Mormons.  In  fact,  it  is  difficult  at  any 
time  to  tell  a  Mormon  from  a  Gentile,  except  during  the 
heat  of  discussion  on  politics.  Having  made  many 
acquaintances  with  the  people,  I  got  quite  familiar  with 
their  politics,  always  pretending  ignorance  or  scepticism. 
There  was  one  man  that  I  became  well  acquainted  with, 
whom  I  much  admired,  he  was  a  thorough  Mormon.  I 
passed  his  house  almost  every  day  when  going  into  town. 
One  day  as  I  was  passing  I  said  to  him,  "What  is  it  that 


OGDEN.  185 


makes  }'our  fruit  trees  look  so  healthy  and  the  bark  so 
smooth  and  green  ;  what  gives  them  that  healthy  color  ?" 
"Mr.  Johnson,  I  give  them  nothing,  it  is  the  soil  they 
live  on  ;  alkali  and  salt  are  its  compound.  It  is  as  good 
for  grain  as  for  fruit,  and  for  potatoes  still  better.  Mr. 
Johnson,  I  would  like  to  have  a  long  half  day's  talk  with 
you.  I  am  from  the  State  of  Illinois,  and  was  one  of  the 
early  pioneers  over  the  Rocky  Mountains.  I  was  probably 
the  first  one  who  saw  the  Salt  Lake  and  was  one  of  five 
that  left  Salt  Lake  prospecting  between  Weber's  river  and 
canj'on,  and  from  there  to  what  is  now  Ogden.  Here  we 
stopped  and  have  remained  here  ever  since.  This  is  a 
wonderful  place ;  we  are  between  two  rivers,  Ogden  and 
Weber.  They  are  about  eight  miles  apart.  For  irriga 
tion  we  take  water  from  the  Ogden  river.  Our  people 
are  n  >w  engaged  in  an  enterprise,  which  when  completed 
will  cost  many  thousands  of  dollars,  and  will  be  worth  to 
us,  many  millions  when  finished.  We  are  construct 
ing  a  canal  to  carry  the  waters  of  Weber  river  a  long 
distance  on  the  plains,  between  Ogden  and  Salt  Lake  city. 
This  canal  will  take  the  water  from  the  river  before  it 
leaves  the  canyon,  as  the  fall  to  the  water  is  much 
greater.  As  I  have  said,  Ogden  is  wonderfully  situated. 
Look  at  yonder  mountain,  only  one  mile  from  its  base, 
over  there  is  Ogden  river  and  can}'on.  Look  at  those 
lands  beyond  the  court  house,  what  a  vast  plain  to  the 
right  and  left  of  us  ;  these  are  the  foot  hills  of  the  moun 
tain  ;  see  those  lands  on  high  ground,  some  eighty  feet 
above  the  city's  level ;  we  call  them  shelves.  These  lands 
are  easily  irrigated.  Mr.  Johnson,  I  have  said  and  still 
say,  it  is  wonderful.  Coming  from  the  best  State  in  the 
Union  to  this  place,  the  Lord  God  Almighty  was  with  us 
from  the  beginning  and  has  been  ever  since.  We  have 
been  severel}7  tried  since  the  railroad  came  amongst  us. 
We  had  been  here  twenty  years/ before  the  railroad.  We 
have  cultivated  these  lands  and  have  brought  them  to 


186  OGDEN. 


what  they  now  are,  with  their  fine  fruit  trees  and  those 
beautiful  fields  of  grain  that  you  see  3ronder ;  all  this  we 
have  done  with  our  own  hands.  How  was  it  before  the 
railroad  arrived  in  town?  We  were  a  happy,  peaceful 
people.  Not  a  saloon  in  town  ;  no  drinking  or  gambling 
places  to  be  found.  How  is  it  to-da}-?  Go  down  Fifth 
street ;  look  in  those  drinking  hells.  The  proprietors  are 
not  Mormons.  No,  they  are  Gentiles,  formerly  Missouri 
rebels  during  the  Rebellion  ;  they  are  the  ones  that  make 
the  most  noise.  Mr.  Johnson,  you  know,  no  doubt,  that 
when  the  government  contracted  with  the  railroad,  it  was 
to  give  and  take  equally.  The  government  take  a  section 
and  the  railroad  take  a  section  of  a  mile  each  ;  with  this 
understanding,  that  all  citizens  who  had  taken  land  as 
settlers  and  under  cultivation,  shall  receive  a  patent  for 
the  same  on  payment  of  one  dollar  and  twenty-five  cents 
per  acre.  When  the  Pacific  Railroad  arrived  in  town  their 
division  comprised  the  most  part  of  Ogden.  Ogden  was 
a  large  agricultural  town,  with  many  inhabitants.  The 
railroad  had  passed  through  nothing  like  unto  it,  and  in 
due  time  the  people  living  on  these  lands  were  called 
upon  to  show  their  patents,  or  to  purchase  one.  The 
leading  Mormons  were  shrewd  ;  they  were  citizens  of  the 
States.  As  the  citizens  came  up  to  pay  for  their  lands  and 
take  their  patents  according  to  contract,  one  dollar  and 
twenty-five  cents  wa#  not  enough,  much  more  was  exac 
ted  ;  they  refused  to  pay  the  advanced  figures.  A  meet 
ing  was  called  of  the  land  owners,  the  decision  was  to 
pay  the  figures  of  the  railroad  and  take  out  their  patents. 
This  was  hard  on  many  of  the  citizens  ;  most  of  them 
were  living  in  their  old  log  cabins,  that  they  had  built  at 
first  settling.  But  they  came  up  and  now  most  of  these 
lands  are  ours.  For  instance,  a  Mormon  dies,  leaving  a 
good  farm,  a  widow  and  two  daughters  ;  the  widow  mar 
ries  an  anti-Mormon.  He  is  satisfied  with  one  wife,  and 
don't  care  for  a  second  one  ;  and  so  is  the  wife.  When 


OGDEN.  187 


the  daughters  commence  to  think  of  a  husband,  they  are 
pretty  sure  to  take  an  anti- Mormon.  There  are  many 
cases  of  this  kind."  "Friend  J.,  then  Mormonism  is  go 
ing  to  die  out  in  time?"  I  said.  "I  think  polygamy  will 
in  time,"  said  Mr.  J.  "I  understand  that  the  young 
women  will  not  consent  to  their  husbands  taking  a  second 
wife  on  their  marriage  day  ;  how  is  that,  Mr.  J?"  I  asked. 
"I  don't  blame  them;  I  would  not  if  I  were  the\r.  I 
never  had  but  one  wife  and  never  saw  the  day  I  wanted  the 
second.  We  are  thinking  of  doing  as  3rou  do  down  East ; 
one  wife  and  as  many  concubines  as  you  can  bargain  for. 
This,  congress  will  consent,  no  doubt.  Mr.  Johnson,  I 
have  omitted  one  essential  part,  and  it  should  hav.e  been 
first.  While  we  were  at  Council  Bluff,  and  about  to  leave 
for  parts  unknown,  President  Polk  sent  a  squad  of  troops 
to  Council  Bluff  and  took  five  hundred  of  our  best  young 
men  and  sent  them  to  Mexico  to  fight  for  these  same 
lands  that  we  are  now  living  on.  If  we  have  no  right  to 
these  lands,  who  are  the  people  that  have.  Mr.  Johnson, 
this  was  a  severe  blow  to  us ;  many  of  the  men  taken 
had  families,  they  were  marched  away  from  their  wives 
and  children  to  see  them  no  more.  Some  of  them  found 
their  way  back  to  us.  When  we  arrived  here,  we  were 
told  by  the  Indians  that  corn  would  not  grow,  but  we  tried 
it  and  found  that  it  would  and  did.  The  same  God  of 
ancient  times  was  with  us  continually  ;  we  called  on  him 
daily  and  he  answered  our  call.  They  believed  in  a  God 
in  those  days  and  we  Mormons  do  to-da}'.  On  our  ar 
rival  here,  we  were  destitute  of  those  fine,  young  men 
taken  to  go  to  war ;  oh,  how  cruel  it  was,  their  wives, 
and  children  here,  but  they  were  not.  Time  moved  on. 
We  found  by  experience,  that  not  only  corn  could  be 
grown,  but  all  kinds  of  grain  ;  wheat  especially  was  very 
productive,  more  so  than  any  other  kind  of  grain.  Mr. 
Johnson,  you  have  been  with  us  about  how  long?" 
"More  than  seven  months,"  I  replied.  "You  have  been 


188  OGDEN. 


with  us  seven  months  or  more,  with  the  worst  people  on 
earth,  so  say  the  people  clown  East.  Mr.  Johnson,  have 
we  harmed  3'ou  in  any  way  since  you  have  been  with  us? 
You  can  say  when  you  get  back  to  old  Massachusetts, 
that  you  have  been  stopping  more  than  seven  months  with 
Mormons;  when  do  you  intend  to  leave  us?"  he  asked. 
"About  the  middle  of  the  month  ;  I  shall  leave  as  soon  as 
you  say  it  will  be  safe  to  cross  the  mountains,"  I  replied. 
4 'The  middle  of  the  month  will  be  early  enough.  I  am 
afraid  you  will  find  snow  on  the  mountains.  Mr.  John 
son,  I  hope  you  will  tell  your  people  the  truth  about  the 
Mormons,  the  whole  truth  and  shame  the  devil.  Mr. 
Johnson,  we  have  some  bad  Mormons  and  they  are  grow 
ing  W^rse  every  day.  Before  the  railroad  came  into 
town,  we  were  a  better  people,  but  since,  we  have  grown 
worse.  They  are  not  Mormons,  but  men  from  the  East 
to  work  at  the  mines.  Here  they  spend  the  winter  and 
try  to  rob  each  other  by  gambling  and  carousing  through 
the  winter.  Mr.  Johnson,  we  have  had  a  long  talk,  when 
do  you  think  of  leaving  us?"  "I  think  of  leaving  }TOU  on 
the  14th,  next  Monday."  "What  a  long  road  you  have 
before  you  ;  over  the  Rock}r  Mountains  all  alone  ;  that  is 
the  worst  part  of  it.  All  the  rivers  to  ford,  you  must  be 
something  more  than  a  man  to  stand  it.  Well,  Mr.  John 
son,  I  hope  3'ou  will  go  through  safe  and  sound  ;  my  dail}T 
prayer  for  you  will  be  that  you  may  reach  your  home  in 
safety.  The  Lord  our  God  protect  thee.  Good-b}'e, 
friend  Johnson,  I  hope  to  hear  from  you,"  said  this 
Josephite.  "Thank  y»  u.  Good-bye,  friend  J.  Further, 
give  ni}'  regards  to  your  people,  those  that  I  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  being  acquainted  with  while  here.  Tell  them 
all  to  become  Josephites ;  give  up  polygam}f  and  come 
into  the  Union  with  a  clean  constitution  ;  do  it  voluntarily 
and  not  be  drawn  to  it  is  the  wish  of  a  traveller  across 
the  country." 


OGDEN.  189 


CHAPTER  VI. 


FROM  OGDEN  CITY,  UTAH,  TO  LARAMIE,  WYOMING. 

I  left  Ogclen  May  14th,  1883,  for  the  East,  and  made 
Weber  the  same  day,  a  distance  of  twenty-five  miles.  I 
followed  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  most  of  the  way  to 
Omaha.  Leaving  the  city4 1  left  the  railroad  to  my  right. 
My  'direction  was  south  to  Uintah,  about  eight  miles. 
There  I  crossed  the  railroad  and  the  Weber  river  also. 
Following  the  river  and  railroad  to  the  canyon,!  am  on 
the  right  of  both,  the  three  running  parallel  for  many 
miles.  Crossing  the  river  on  the  railroad  bridge,  I  now 
follow  on  the  left  and  enter  the  Weber  Valley.  This 
canyon  that  I  have  just  passed  through  is  most  wonder 
ful.  There  are  places  that  are  not  sixty  feet  wide,  from 
rock  to  rock,  and  the  road  is  veiy  narrow  in  places,  not 
more  than  eight  feet.  On  my  right  is  a  wall  of  solid 
rock,  hundreds  of  feet  perpendicular ;  on  my  left  is  the 
river,  down  to  its  waters  are  many  feet.  There  are  many 
rocks  in  the  river  that  would  weigh  thousands  of  t  >ns. 
Waters  are  dashing  and  roaring  against  these  rocks  that 
make  one  feel  awful.  As  I  was  about  to  cross  the 
river,  I  heard  the  sound  of  an  engine's  whistle.  I  stop 
ped,  looking  up  and  down  the  railroad,  but  could  see  no 
cars ;  I  was  sure  that  I  heard  a  whistle  and  soon  came 
the  train.  The  roar  of  the  water  was  so  great  among 
the  rocks  that  I  could  not  hear  the  train  as  it  passed. 
Soon  after  entering  this  canyon, I  came  to  a  company  of 
men,  who  were  building  a  flume  to  carry  the  waters  of  the 
river  into  a  canal,  which  had  been  made  for  miles  on  the 
plains,  south  and  west  of  Ogden  ;  between  the  Wahsatch 


100  WEBER. 


Mountains,  Salt  Lake  and  Salt  Lake  city.  I  was  informed 
by  the  superintendent  of  these  works,  Mr.  Brown,  that 
this  enterprise  would  cost  over  one  hundred  and  thirty 
thousand  dollars,  and  can  be  made  to  cost  any  amount. 
The  bridge  on  which  I  crossed  is  one  of  the  best  I  have 
seen  on  my  way,  thus  far.  My  road  is  now  on  the  east 
side  of  the  valley,  winding  around  its  foot  hills  ;  this  val 
ley  is  thickly  populated  by  the  Mormons.  I  have  passed 
through  a  place  called  Enterprise ;  it  looks  as  if  there 
were  some  around.  On  the  west  side  of  this  valley  is  a 
place  called  Peterson,  a  telegraph  station.  Before  leaving 
Ogden  I  got  my  cattle  shod ;  the  horse  was  well  done, 
but  the  cow  was  not,  and  she  was  troubled  to  travel. 
On  arriving  at  Weber,  I  called  on  a  blacksmith  to  ascer 
tain  if  I  could  get  the  cow  shod  and  learned  that  I  could. 
The  blacksmith  said  he  could  shoe  her  and  would  do  so  at 
five  o'clock  next  morning. 

On  the  morning  of  the  15th  I  was  up  early ;  fed  my 
cattle,  got  breakfast  and  made  ever}rthing  ready  for  a 
start,  and  waited  for  the  blacksmith  till  five  a.  m.,  the 
time  set  for  shoeing  the  cow.  He  was  on  time,  sa}'ing, 
"It  was  going  to  be  a  hard  job."  "I  think  3Tou  are  going 
to  be  mistaken,  she  will  behave  like  a  lady ;  won't  you, 
Bessie?"  I  said.  "We  will  soon  know,"  said  the  black 
smith.  I  led  Bessie  into  the  brake,  and  the  blacksmith 
was  about  to  sling  her  up,  but  I  told  him  not  to  do  so, 
but  put  the  slings  under  her  and  let  her  'stand  on  her  feet. 
I  will  show  3'ou  how  when  she  is  in  the  brake.  The  sling 
was  then  drawn  tight  under  her,  but  not  so  tight  as  to  lift 
her  from  her  feet ;  a  rope  was  then  passed  around  both 
legs,  below  the  fetlocks,  and  drawn  tight  s;>  that  it  would 
not  slip,  and  made  fast  to  the  brakes.  The  front  right 
foot  was  taken  up  and  the  nail  clinches  cut,  the  pincers 
were  put  to  the  shoe  for  its  removal,  and  after  a  strong 
pull  it  was  quickly  off  all  right.  The  other  shoes  were 


ECHO.  191 


removed  in  a  like  manner.  The  shoes  were  then  cut  and 
made  one  half  inch  less  in  length  and  re-placed  ;  this 
made  a  good  job.*  In  travelling  there  was  no  friction  of 
the  shoes  and  they  were  evidently  easy  to  the  feet  of  the 
cow. 

I  left  Weber  at  7  a.  m.,  and  reached  Emory  the  same 
day,  a  distance  of  twenty-five  miles.  In  making  this 
place,  we  passed  two  stations,  Corydon  and  Echo,*  the 
latter  is  a  first-class  station.  It  is  a  junction,  a  railroad 
from  Park  city  comes  in.  On  leaving  this  station,  on  the 
left  you  pass  around  a  number  of  high  bluffs ;  they  are 
handsome  and  grand.  Here,  nature  is  to  be  seen  at  her 
best.  Bluff  after  bluff  arise  one  after  another,  hundreds 
of  feet  high — a  short  distance  from  the  road.  Between 
the  bluffs,  at  their  bases,  are  spaces  wide  enough  to  pass 
through  with  a  team,  and  on  emerging  come  out  on  beau 
tiful  plains.  Reader,  should  you  ever  travel  this  way, 
stay  and  look  at  nature's  works  around  Echo.  On  leaving 
this  town  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  gentleman,  while 
sitting  in  his  carriage,  who  said,  "Stranger,  you  will  just 
reach  my  place  to-night ;  it  is  about  a  mile  beyond  the 
station ;  if  you  will  call  I  will  entertain  you  the  best  I 
can.  I  have  plenty  of  hay  and  grain  for  your  cattle,'  for 
yourself  I  will  say  nothing  5  my  wife  shall  look  after  you." 
"What  are  you,  Mormons?"  I  asked.  "No,  no  Mor 
mons  at  our  house.  I  suppose  you  know  all  about  them. 
You  have  been  staying  in  Ogden?"  "Friend,  I  do  know 
something  about  them  ;  I  have  had  a  good  opportunity  to 
learn.  When  I  get  East,  should  I  succeed  in  getting 
there,  you  will  hear  what  I  have  to  say  about  them.  It 
is  now  about  twelve  o'clock."  "It  is  about  eleven  miles 
to  my  home,*  how  long  will  you  be  in  travelling  there  ?" 
"I  travel  about  two  and  a  half  miles  to  the  hour,  day  or 
night,  just  as  it  happens  ;  so  it  will  take  four  and  a  half 
hours  to  make  that  distance."  "I  will  overtake  you  be 
fore  you  get  to  the  station  ;  if  I  d  >n't,  it  is  the  first  house 


192  THE    RANCIIE. 


beyond  the  station,  on  the  right  of  the  road  on  the 
hillside."  "All  right*  I  will  be  going  on."  There  was 
a  large  number  of  people  around  me,  and  as  I  was  leav 
ing,  one  of  their  number  called  out,  "Three  cheers  and 
success  to  the  man  from  California,  on  his  wa}^  to  Massa 
chusetts."  They  were  given  with  a  will,  you  bet.  "Good 
bye  yourself,  and  success  on  your  journey."  About  four 
miles  from  the  station  I  was  overtaken  by  a  cavalcade  of 
Indians,  eighteen  in  number,  mounted  on  fine  horses. 
They  were  civil  and  courteous  and  spoke  fair  English.  I 
travelled  in  their  company  several  miles.  Before  reaching 
the  station,  the  gentleman  who  had  invited  me  to  stop 
over  night  overtook  me  and  kept  me  company  as  far  as 
his  house.  On  our  arrival  he  introduced  me  to  his  wife, 
saying,  "Wife,  this  stranger  is  from  California,  just  as 
he  is,  and  is  going  East,  to  Massachusetts,  where  he  be 
longs  ;  make  him  as  comfortable  as  }'ou  can,'  I  think  he  is 
worthy  of  it."  My  cattle  were  put  in  the  barn,  fed  with 
good  hay  and  grain,  and  were  made  safe  under  a  good 
lock  ;  after  this  was  done  I  went  into  the  house  to  a  good 
supper  which  was  waiting.  "Stranger,  allow  me  to  ask 
3*our  name?"  "Sir,  my  name  is  Johnson,  W.  B.,  of 
Webster,  Mass."  "Mr.  Johnson,  take  a  seat  at  the 
table  and  we  will  soon  know  what  my  wife  has  for  sup 
per."  "Had  I  known  that  I  was  to  have  company  to  tea, 
I  might  have  done  better,  however,  excuse  me,"  said  the 
wife.  Well,  what  did  we  have?  It  consisted  of  mutton 
chop,  hot  potatoes,  biscuit,  coffee  and  mince  pies.  That 
was  all  there  was  on  the  table  ;  to  me  it  tasted  delicious. 
We  sat  at  the  table  nearly  two  hours,  asking  and 
answering  questions.  When  the  time  came  for  retiring, 
I  told  them  that  I  had  at  all  times  and  places  slept  with 
my  cattle,  having  been  advised  to  do  so,  so  that  should 
anybody  attempt  to  take  them,  I  should  be  there  to  see 
to  them. 


EVANSTON.  193 


I  left  the  ranche  near  Emory  on  the  16th,  and  made 
Evanston,  a  distance  of  twenty-six  miles.  I  was  up  early 
as  usual,  feeding  and  getting  ready  to  move  forward.  My 
friend  of  the  ranche  came  to  the  barn  and  we  bade  each 
other  good  morning.  "You  find  your  cattle  all  here  I 
suppose?"  "Yes,  sir  ;  and  doing  well.  I  have  fed  them 
with  ha}'."  "You  will  find  grain  in  that  box,  give  them  all 
3'ou  dare,  }'ou  must  keep  them  well,  or  fail  in  your  under 
taking."  "I  cany  grain."  "You  do,  then  you  are  all 
right ;  put  the  grain  into  them.  Our  breakfast  is  ready. 
I  told  my  wife  that  }7ou  would  like  to  start  early."  We 
went  into  the  house  and  partook  of  a  good  breakfast.  As 
I  was  about  to  leave  them  I  said,  "We  have  all  been  well 
cared  for,  and  are  now  ready  to  go  on.  Since  leaving 
California,  many  times  have  we  been  well  entertained, 
but  your  hospitality  stands  ahead  of  any.  Yours  was 
entirely  voluntary ;  I  have  asked  and  received  many 
times,  but  }rou  did  not  give  me  a  chance  to  ask  ;  that  is 
where  there  is  a  difference.  I  wish  I  could  have  an  op 
portunity  to  do  the  same  for  3rou."  After  bidding  each 
other  good-bj^e  I  moved  on  my  journey  towards  Evanston, 
leaving  the  railroad  on  my  left.  In  reaching  this  town  I 
pass  but  one  station,  Wahsatch,  which  is  a  telegraph 
station.  Its  location  is  desolate,  being  on  a  high  eleva 
tion,  cold  and  windy.  The  road  to  this  'station  from 
the  west  is  of  a  very  heavy  grade.  Trains  labor  hard  in 
making  it ;  its  elevation  is  six  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
sevent}'-nine  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  The  high 
way  is  good,  and  about  five  p.  m.  I  reached  Evanston, 
driving  up  to  near  the  depot,  I  stopped  at  a  livery  stable 
and  inquired  for  the  proprietor,  who  came  and  asked  what 
he  could  do  for  me.  "I  am  travelling  and  would  like  to 
get  my  cattle  out  of  the  wind  for  the  night.  That  shed 
would  answer  my  purpose,  if  you  will  consent  to  it?' 
"Yes,  sir  ;  I  will  consent."  "Will  you  sell  me  some  hay 
for  my  cattle?"  "Hay  is  very  scarce  with  me.  I  ought 


194  EVANSTON. 


to  have  gone  for  some  to-day,  but  being  so  windy  and 
cold  I  did  not  go.  Your  cattle  must  have  some,  I  will  go 
up  and  throw  some  down  ;  when  there  is  enough,  call 
out."  I  did  so  when  he  had  put  down  a  liberal  supply. 
I  have  now  to  feed  strong  on  grain  as  I  can  not  depend 
on  hay  or  grass.  "Which  way  are  you  travelling?"  ask 
ed  the  livery  man.  "I  am  going  East."  "Where  are 
you  from?"  "I  left  Ogden  last  Monday  morning." 
"You  come  from  Ogden  since  last  Monday,  with  that 
cow?"  "I  have,  sir."  "That  is  a  big  story  to  tell ;  }rou 
look  as  though  yon  ought  to  tell  the  truth.  From  Ogden 
to  this  place  in  three  days  ;  3^ou  have  travelled  more  than 
eighty  miles — }res,  eighty-five.  It  is  seventy-six  by  rail 
road,  and  your  road  around  the  foot-hills  of  the  valley  is 
more  than  that  distance.  Then  you  are  from  Ogden, 
where  in  the  name  of  God  are  you  going  to?"  "I  am 
going  to  Green  River  ciiy,  and  when  I  get  there  I  am  go 
ing  to  Laramie  and  so  on  to  Omaha,  and  thus  on  to  Mas 
sachusetts."  "Are  you  the  man  that  is  on  his  way  from 
California  with  a  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  a  little  dog.  I 
read  about  him  in  the  papers  a  while  ago?"  "I  think  I 
must  be  the  man  ;  I  am  sure  I  am."  "You  are  early  to 
travel  East,  over  the  mountains  ;  I  do  not  think  you  can 
ford  the  rivers,  they  are  already  high  and  will  be  higher." 
"I  am  told  there  are  two  roads  to  Green  River  city,  one 
to  follow  the  railroad,  the  other  to  take  the  old  Emigrant 
road."  "If  I  were  in  }'our  boots  going  to  Green  River 
city,  I  would  take  the  old  Immigrant  trail  every  time.  It 
is  the  best,  travelled  the  most  and  the  shortest."  "Plow 
about  fording  the  rivers  ?"  "They  are  high  at  this  time, 
but  will  be  higher  before  you  get  through."  "Are  there 
more  rivers  one  way  than  the  other?"  "No  ;  either  way 
you  will  have  the  same  rivers  and  the  same  road  a  part  of 
the  way."  "There  is  Bear  river  to  begin  with;  how 
about  that?"  "It  is  the  best  river  to  ford  on  your  whole 
route;  a  good  hard  bottom  and  no  rocks."  "Is  it  a 


EVANSTON.  195 


broad  river?"  uYes,  it  is  ;  that  makes  it  much  better  to 
ford.  If  it  were  narrow,  the  water  would  be  much  deeper 
and  a  much  stronger  current ;  when  do  you  leave  here  ?" 
' 'To-morrow  morning."  "On  the  morrow,  I  will  harness 
up  and  drive  my  team  to  the  river  and  across}  you  follow 
me  closety,  then  you.  will  be  all  right  for  the  next  river." 

1  was  up  early  on  the  morning  of  the  17th.  I  had  fed 
my  cattle  and  was  greasing  my  carriage  as  the  proprietor 
came  to  feed  his  team.  Coming  up  to  where  I  was  he 
said,  "Come,  go  with  me  and  get  some  breakfast;  a 
dish  of  hot  coffee  will  make  }'ou  all  right  for  fording  the 
rivers."  I  went  with  him  and  got  breakfast,  came  back 
and  made  ready  to  start  on  my  journey.  I  drove  along 
to  the  river  and  soon  the  man  came  with  his  team  and 
said,  "How  does  it  look  to  you?"  I  answered  back, 
"How  does  it  look  to  you?"  "This  is  all  right,*  get  on  to 
your  wagon  and  drive  close  up  to  mine,*  don't  be  a  bit 
afraid."  He  drove  down  into  the  river,  I  close  up  to  him  ; 
the  water  was  much  deeper  than  I  supposed  it  to  be,  and 
I  thought  my  horse  would  go  under.  I  dared  not  look 
back  to  see  how  the  cow  was  getting  along.  I  felt  as  if  I 
was  swinging  around,  but  when  I  looked  on  the  wagon 
ahead  I  was  all  right.  After  crossing,  the  man  said, 
"This  is  the  largest  river  you  will  have  to  ford.  Green 
river  you  will  have  to  cross  on  a  boat ;  it  cannot  be  forded 
this  time  of  the  year.  The  next  to  ford  is  Muddy  river, 
and  muddy  you  will  find  it,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  you  can 
ford  it.  Should  it  continue  to  be  warm,  it  will  cut  the 
snow  on  the  mountains  and  make  the  rivers  much  higher ; 
that  is  the  matter  with  the  rivers  at  this  time  of  the  year. 
It  is  doubtful  if  you  will  be  able  to  travel  until  the  rivers 
fall."  "How  much  shall  I  pay  you  for  your  kindness?"  I 
asked.  "Not  a  dime,"  he  answered.  "But  this  has  been 
a  great  favor  to  me,  and  I  feel  as  though  you  ought  to  be 
rewarded."  "It  is  all  right  now.  If  we  were  on  the 


196  EVANSTON. 


other  side  of  the  river,  perhaps,  I  would  take  something 
with  you,  but  as  we  are  it  is  all  right.  I  hope  you  will 
get  along  all  right;  good  morning."  ' 'Thank  you,  good 
morning." 

Evanston  is  a  thorough  business  town ;  one  of  more 
than  ordinary  enterprise.  There  are  churches  and  school- 
houses,  Avhich  are  something  new,'  I  have  not  seen  them 
with  but  one  exception  for  a  great  many  miles  ;  yes,  for 
hundreds  of  miles.  There  is  more  of  New  England  in 
this  placeythan  in  any  other  town  I  have  passed  through, 
with  one  exception,  since  leaving  California.  All  trains 
stop  here  and  time  is  allowed  for  dinner.  The  express 
from  the  East  arrives  at  1 :50  p.  m.  ;  from  the  West  at 
3  :50  p.  m.  On  leaving  here,  after  crossing  Bear  river, 
my  direction  was  eastward,  the  railroad  on  my  right. 
After  travelling  about  eight  miles  I  came  to  another  trail, 
but  did  not  know  whether  I  should  take  it  or  not.  Having 
passed  but  one  house  since  leaving  in  the  morning,  there 
was  not  much  chance  to  get  information.  Looking  around  7 
I  could  see  but  one  way^  and  that  was  to  my  right. 
On  my  left  were  mountains  and  on  the  right  the  railroad. 
I  thought  it  safest  to  take  the  right-hand  trail,  and  did  so. 
I  am  now  on  a  good  trail,  travelling  at  the  rate  of  three 
miles  an  hour.  About  eleven  o'clock  I  came  in  sight  of  a 
covered  wagon ;  before  reaching  the  wagon  I  saw  two 
men  with  a  herd  of  sheep  and  made  for  them.  On  reach 
ing  them  I  made  known  my  business,  relating  my  long 
story  and  said  I  had  come  from  Evanston  this  morning, 
and  on  coming  to  two  trails  I  took  this  one,"  Am  I  on  the 
rierbt  trail  to  Green  River  city?"  "You  are  not;  you 
should  have  taken  the  other  trail,"  said  the  strangers.  "I 
suppose  I  shall  have  to  go  back  and  take  the  other  trail  ?" 
"I  think  you  had  better  go  back  and  take  the  other  trail. 
If  you  were  acquainted  with  the  surroundings  you  might 
get  through,  but  as  you  are  a  stranger  it  is  doubtful  if  you 


THE  RANCHE.  197 


could  find  the  trail."  "What  is  the  time  of  day?"  I 
asked.  "It  is  about  12m.  Stranger,  stop  and  get  some 
dinner  with  us,*  we  will  give  you  some  mutton  and  your 
cattle  some  grain,*  that  is  the  best  we  can  do."  "That  is 
good  enough,'  I  will  stop  ;  such  an  invitation  should  not 
be  passed  by."  My  cattle  were  fed  with  grain,  myself 
with  mutton  chop;  and  at  one  o'clock  I  counter-marched 
back  to  the  trail  I  should  have  taken,  which  if  taken  at 
first  would  have  saved  me  five  hours'  travel,  and  lost  me  a 
good  dinner.  This  new  trail  is  a  good  road.  After  trav 
elling  about  the  same  length  of  time,I  came  to  a  ranche, 
on  approaching  which  I  found  two  men  present.  After  in 
troducing  myself  to  the  gentlemen,  I  inquired  of  them 
"If  I  was  on  the  right  trail  to  the  creek  called  the 
Muddy?"  "You  are,"  they  answered.  "How  far  is  it?*' 
" About  two  miles,"  they  said.  "Have  you  any  objec 
tion  to  my  company  here?"  "Qh,  no  ;  not  in  the  least," 
they  answered.  It  was  then  6  p.  m.,  so  I  told  them  I 
would  camp  with  them.  I  took  the  horse  from  the  car 
riage  and  turned  her  loose,*  the  cow  I  staked  out.  After 
supper  I  secured  my  cattle  to  their  several  posts, 
spread  my  blankets  on  the  ground  and  went  to  bed. 
About  midnight  I  was  awakened  by  the  howling  of  dogs  ; 
they  do  duty  at  night,and  are  good  shepherds  and  no  mis 
take.  There  are  two  animals  that  are  very  troublesome  to 
sheep  owners,  the  wolf  and  the  coyotte  ;  they  can  "smell 
sheep  a  very  long  way  off,  I  am  told.  I  will  give  you  a 
description  of  a  sheep  ranche ;  there  are  two  within  two 
miles  of  where  I  am  camped.  This  ranche  is  a  long 
wagon,  about  eighteen  feet  long,  by  six  and  a  half  wide  ; 
covered  with  heavy  canvas.  In  the  front  part  is  a  stove 
suitable  for  cooking,  with  all  the  necessary  utensils. 
In  the  centre  there  is  a  table  four  feet  long,  and 
in  the  rear  part,  there  is  a  bed,  with  the  necessary 
bedding.  Here  you  have  a  house  with  three  apartments  ; 
kitchen,  dining  and  lodging  rooms.  A  man  with  two  good 


198  MUDDY  CREEK. 


horses  will  take  this  house  to  some  secluded  place  suit 
able  for  sheep  to  graze  and  there  stop.  In  his  rear, 
f  >llow  from  one  to  five  thousand  sheep.  During  the  day 
sheep  roam  at  large,  grazing,  and  at  night  they  are  all 
gathered  around  this  wagon,  or  ranche.  Corn  is  fed  to 
them  which  keeps  them  well  content.  They  understand 
that  outside  there  is  danger ;  four  dogs  do  guard  duty 
every  day  and  night.  This  grazing  belongs  to  Uncle 
Sam  ;  he  has  thousands  of  them.  The  best  part  of  this 
ranche  is  the  house  ;  it  is  on  wheels^  and  it  can  be  taken 
where  you  please,  one,  five  or  twenty  miles,  if  }'ou  don't 
step  on  the  Indian's  toes*  that  is  all. 

On  the  morning  of  the  18th  I  was  up  and  around  early, 
getting  ready  to  go  on  and  about  six  o'clock  broke  camp 
for  Muddy  creek,  which  I  reached  about  ten  o'clock.  This 
creek  is  about  four  rods  across  ;  had  it  been  six,  it  would 
have  been  much  better  to  cross.  A  large  bod}'  of  water 
flows  past  and  its  banks  are  full  and  overflowing.  A 
short  distance  below  the  ford,  there  is  a  bend  in  the  river 
which  sets  the  water  back,  making  the  ford  deep,  with  a 
strong  current.  It  was  discouraging,*  I  felt  blue^and  be 
ing  all  alone  I  was  disheartened.  In  order  to  ascertain 
the  depth  of  the  water,  I  took  out  my  horse,  got  on  to 
her  back  and  made  an  attempt  to  cross,  but  she  would  not 
go  into  the  water  ;  I  made  several  attempts,  but  with  no 
further  success.  It  was  a  warm  da)j  and  I  remembered 
what  the  man  said  at  Evanston,  "The  warmer  the  da}r, 
the  higher  the  river."  I  went  back  to  my  wagon,  removed 
the  harness  and  turned  the  horse  loose,  the  cow  also.  I 
returned  to  the  river  and  made  a  mark,  so  that  I  could 
tell  whether  the  water  was  rising  or  falling.  I  then  re 
turned  to  my  carriage,  gathered  some  wood  and  made  a 
fire  ;  made  some  coffee,  boiled  some  eggs  and  ate  my  din 
ner.  Having  some  oil,  I  concluded  to  give  my  harness  a 
good  limbering  up.  Several  times  I  went  to  the  river  to 


MUDDY  CREEK.  199 


see  whether  the  water  was  higher  or  lower.  Before  night 
the  river  had  fallen  about  four  inches,  and  I  thought  that 
by  morning  I  should  be  able  to  cross. 

On  the  morning  of  the  19th,  instead  of  the  river  being 
lower,  it  had  risen  two  feet.  Just  across  the  river,  not 
more  than  four  rods  was  the  railroad.  As  the  water  was 
higher,  I  concluded  to  turn  back  to  a  road  that  led  to  a 
railroad  station,  which  I  had  noticed  the  day  before.  I  had 
just  got  ready  to  return  when  I  noticed  a  hand-car  coming 
up  the  railroad  track,  with  several  men  on  it.  I  signaled 
them  to  stop,  which  they  did,  and  inquired  the  distance  to 
the  station?  They  answered,  "About  four  miles."  "I 
came  here  yesterday  and  finding  the  river  high,  I  dared 
not  cross  it."  "It  is  very  high  ;  never  saw  it  so  high  be 
fore,'  you  had  better  go  back  to  the  station  and  take  the 
road  to  Fort  Bridges,'  you  there  cross  the  same  river  over 
a  bridge,  about  a  mile  from  the  station,"  one  of  the  men 
answered.  I  went  back  to  the  station,  and  on  my  way  I 
came  to  a  small  village.  The  first  building  I  came  to  was 
a  store  and  Post  Office.  I  introduced  myself  to  a  woman 
who  proved  to  be  the  Postmistress,  relating  my  travels 
from  California  to  this  place,  and  telling  her  that  "Yes 
terday  I  came  to  a  river  about  four  miles  below,  but  find 
ing  it  very  high,  dared  not  cross  and  remained  over  night, 
hoping  that  the  waters  would  be  lower  in  the  morning, 
but  instead  they  were  higher,  and  so  I  was  advised  to 
take  this  road  to  Fort  Bridges."  "Well,  but  I  don't 
know  but  the  bridge  on  this  road  has  been  carried  away. 
I  will  take  my  horse  and  carriage  and  will  go  and  see," 
said  the  Postmistress.  We  went  to  the  river  and  found 
the  bridge  all  right,  but  the  road  had  been  washed  away 
and  the  river  had  made  a  new  bed.  Just  above  the  bridge 
there  is  a  bend  in  the  river  which  was  full  and  overflowing, 
so  that  the  waters  washed  out  a  new  passage.  We 
turned  back  and  reported  the  condition  of  the  road,  and 


200  MUDDY  CREEK. 


that  it  looked  as  if  several  days  would  pass  before  travel 
could  be  renewed.  When  we  got  back,  the  Postmistress 
told  me  to  take  my  horse  from  my  carriage  and  put  her 
and  the  cow  in  the  barn  and  give  them  some  hay,  as  I 
might  have  to^  stop  several  days.  I  did  as  bidden,  stay 
ing  with  her  through  the  night. 

On  the  morning  of  the  20th,  I  was  up  in  due  season 
and  made  ready  to  move  on.  I  went  down  to  the  river  to 
see  how  it  looked  and  found  it  about  the  same  as  yester 
day  ;  I  turned  back  rather  blue,  and  went  to  the  Post 
Office  where  I  found  the  proprietor,  to  whom  I  remarked, 
"I  have  been  to  the  river ;  but  saw  no  change  in  its  con 
dition.  What  can  I  do  ?  my  only  chance  is  to  go  back 
and  ford  the  river."  "The  river  can  be  forded,  but  it  will 
be  a  hard  job.  It  is  a  deep  and  powerful  current ;  3^011 
may  be  able  to  ford  it,  but  you  should  not  be  alone,"  she 
answered.  As  we  were  talking,  three  teams  came  up  to 
where  we  were  and  the  drivers  asked  the  road  to  Green 
River  city.  The  Postmistress  said  to  me,  "Now  is  your 
time."  The  teamsters  were  answered,  "There  are  two 
roads,  one  you  can't  go  and  the  other  you  can  if  you  dare 
ford  the  river."  "Which  road  is  that?"  asked  the  team 
sters.  "The  left  road."  "What  is  the  matter  with  the 
other  way?"  they  asked.  "A  heavy  wash-out ;  a  bridge 
to  be  built  before  it  can  be  travelled.  Rivers  and  creeks 
are  very  high,  it  seems."  "They  are  high  ;  we  are  on  our 
way  to  Green  River  city,  and  still  further  East  across  the 
plains,"  said  the  teamsters.  "I  came  to  the  river  yester 
day  ?  but  found  it  so  high  I  dared  not  cross,  and  came  here 
to  take  this  road,  but  find  it  impassable,  so  here  I  am  as 
you  see,"  I  said.  "Get  ready  and  go  with  them  and 
cross  as  they  do,"  said  the  Postmistress.  We  all  went 
back  to  the  river,  and  as  we  got  there  saw  on  the  opposite 
side  a  herd  of  horses  with  three  men  in  charge  of  them. 
They  rode  up  to  the  crepk,  looked  at  it  a  moment  and  then 


BRIDGES  STATION.  201 


rode  down  the  bank  and  over  the  opposite — in  no  time. 
"That  was  quickly  done,"  I  said.  "How  shall  I  get 
across  with  my  carriage  ?"  I  asked.  "Drive  down  into 
the  river,  that  is  the  way  to  cross ;  you  can't  do  it  while 
on  that  bank,"  said  one  of  the  horsemen.  "If  you  will 
ride  across,  I  will  follow  you,"  I  said.  He  rode  down 
into  the  river  and  I  followed  close  after  him  and  got 
across  all  right,  but  my  wagon  was  full  of  water,  but 
it  soon  ran  out.  I  went  on  and  did  not  stop  to  see 
how  the  three  teams  got  across.  In  crossing  my  feed  got 
wet,  but  it  did  no  other  damage.  About  twelve  o'clock  I 
came  to  a  road  that  ran  at  angles.  To  the  right  is  Fort 
Bridges,  nine  miles,  and  to  my  left  is  Bridges  station,  one 
mile.  Here  I  stopped,  fed  my  cattle  on  grain,  no  hay  or 
grass,  myself  on  bread,  milk,  butter,  cheese  and  salmon, 
a  ver}r  good  dinner.  I  had  just  finished  my  dinner  when 
the  three  teams  I  had  left  at  the  river  came  up.  I 
asked,  "What  luck  crossing  the  river?"  "We  came 
across  as  you  did,  but  got  badly  wet.  It  was  much 
deeper  than  we  supposed  ;  our  wagon  was  under  water. 
It  has  made  work  for  us,T  we  will  not  cross  another  creek 
as  we  did  that.  It  is  taking  too  many  chances  and  won't 
pa}'.  We  shall  have  to  overhaul  our  trunks  and  diy  our 
clothing."  Leaving  them  at  dinner^  I  went  on,and  about 
six  o'clock  these  teams  overtook  me*  they  passed  me  but 
soon  after  went  into  camp,  and  I  camped  with  them  ;  no 
grass  or  hay,  feeding  our  cattle  wholly  on  grain.  I  gather 
ed  some  sage  brush  for  fuel,  made  a  fire,  got  some  coffee 
and  ate  my  supper.  If  you  asked  what  it  consisted  of, 
I  would  say,  hot  coffee,  cold  salmon,  boiled  eggs,  butter, 
cheese,  milk,  and  crackers  for  bread.  My  neighborSj hav 
ing  gone  through  the  same  routine,  they  overhauled  their 
trunks,  taking  out  their  clothing^and  got  ready  for  a  dry- 
out.  I  have  a  box  which  is  water-tight  that  contains  my 
clothing,  sugar,  tea,  coffee  and  other  things  that  water 
affects.  On  the  top  of  this  box  are  my  blankets,  covered 


202  BRIDGES  STATION. 


with  a  rubber  blanket.  At  half-past  eight  it  was  time  to 
make  up  my  bed,  so  I  made  fast  my  cattle  to  their  several 
posts,  made  up  my  bed  and  laid  down  for  a  good  night's 
rest. 

The  morning  of  the  21st  found  me  up  early,  as  usual, 
making  ready  to  move  onward.  I  fed  my  cattle  on  grain, 
no  grass,  nothing  but  sage  bushes  around.  I  made  a  fire, 
got  some  coffee  and  sat  down  to  breakfast.  The  box 
from  which  my  horse  •  eats  her  grain  serves  me  as  a  seat 
when  not  otherwise  in  use.  After  breakfast  I  moved  on. 
My  road  is  not  as  good  as  usual,* it  is  rough  and  stony. 
About  ten  o'clock  I  came  to  a  small  creek  and  gave  the 
cattle  water ;  they  were  thirsty,  drinking  as  though  they 
had  not  seen  water  since  crossing  the  ford,  and  there  they 
did  not  stop  to  drink.  "Come  Fanny,  we  must  go  on,"  I 
said.  About  one  o'clock  I  saw  two  teams  approaching. 
As  we  met,  of  course  we  stopped,  we  do  not  have  to  stop 
more  than  once  a  day.  "Good  morning,  gentlemen,"  I 
said.  "Where  are  you  from,  excuse  me  asking?"  "Oh, 
yes ;  that  is  all  right ;  we  are  from  Green  River  city." 
"Where  did  you  camp  last  night?"  "About  ten  miles 
from  here."  "Did  your  cattle  get  grass?"  "Oh,  }'es  ; 
where  we  stopped  the  grass  was  good."  "About  ten  miles. 
How  is  the  road  that  distance?"  "Very  rough."  We 
then  went  on  and  at  three  o'clock,  stopped  and  gave  my 
cattle  grain  ;  after  eating  we  again  went  on  until  coming 
to  the  grass  of  which  I  had  been  told,  and  went  into 
camp.  It  was  not  yet  time  .to  go  into  camp,  but  there  be 
ing  grass  we  must  stop,  as  going  on  we  might  not  come 
to  any  more  for  many  miles.  I  turned  the  cattle  loose, 
allowing  them  to  have  their  fill,  then  I  made  them  fast  for 
the  night.  While  they  were  eating,  I  gathered  some  wood 
for  a  fire,  got  my  supper  ready,  ate  it  and  went  to  bed. 
In  the  night  I  was  awakened  by  the  horse.  I  knew  then 
there  was  something  around.  I  got  up  and  saw  the 


GRANGE  STATION.  203 


horse  looking  in  a  given  direction,  and  on  turning  that 
way  I  saw  a  herd  of  deer  feeding.  I  went  back  to  bed 
and  did  not  awake  until  dawn. 

On  the  morning  of  the  22nd  I  did  not  awaken  as  early 
as  usual,  my  rest  of  the  night 'having  been  broken. 
While  I  was  making  my  breakfast  I  gave  the  cattle  an 
other  chance  at  the  grass  and  then  gave  grain,  after 
which  we  moved  on.  It  was  six  o'clock  when  we  left  the 
camp  ;  my  road  was  very  rough.  Can  my  carriage  stand 
it?  it  is  doubtful.  I  led  the  horse  over  ever}7  stone  that  I 
thought  wrould  strain  the  carriage,  but  as  I  progressed  the 
road  improved.  I  travelled  as  fast  as  I  dared  and  soon 
came  to  a  small  creek  ;  just  what  I  wanted,  as  the  cattle 
were  very  thirsty,'  here  I  gave  them  some  grain  and  then 
moved  on  and  soon  came  to  the  railroad,  which  after 
crossing  1  came  to  a  large  river,  but  did  not  learn  its 
name.  There  being  plenty  of  grass  I  concluded  to  go  no 
further  and  went  into  camp,  turning  the  cattle  loose  to  eat 
as  they  pleased.  I  went  to  the  river  prospecting  and  found 
a  junction  of  two  rivers,  and  made  marks  to  ascertain 
whether  the  river  was  rising  or  falling.  As  I  went  back 
to  the  camo,  I  gathered  some  fuel  and  made  a  good  large 
fire,  and  got  me  ready  a  good  supper,  that  is,  what  I 
called  good.  I  carry  a  variety  of  eatables,  so  that  I  had, 
the  stuff  for  a  good  meal.  Well,  here  we  are,  the  four  of 
us  ;  horse,  cow,  dog  and  self.  It  is  just  seven  o'clock  in 
the  evening,  on  the  banks  of  a  rivjer  unknown.  I  secured 
my  cattle,  gave  them  grain,  make  up  my  bed  and  was 
about  to  lie  down,  when  a  train  of  cars  came  along  from 
Ogden. 

On  the  morning  of  the  23rd  I  was  up  and  around  look 
ing  to  my  cattle,  doing  this  aid  that,  not  knowing  what 
the  next  would  be.  I  went  to  the  river  and  looked  at  the 
marks  made  last  night,  and  found  the  water  four  inches 


204  GRANGE  STATION. 


lower  and  went  back  to  the  camp  and  turned  the  cattle 
loose,  that  they  might  eat  plenty  of  good  grass,  made  a 
fire  and  got  me  another  "poor"  breakfast.  Then  I  went 
back  to  the  river,  being  anxious  to  see  some  team  coming 
from  the  East  crossing  the  river,  to  see  if  it  wasfordable. 
About  one  mile  east  of  us  is  Grange  station,  which  is  a 
junction  of  the  Union  Pacific  and  the  Oregon  Short  Line, 
running  within  twenty  rods  of  my  camp.  About  nine 
o'clock  the  express  train  from  the  East  passed  by.  After 
the  passing  of  this  train  I  saw  four  teams  coming  from 
the  East ;  three  were  heav}r  wagons  and  one  a  light 
Eastern  wagon  on  springs,  drawn  by  two  horses  each.  On 
coming  to  the  river  they  stopped ;  their  trail  from 
Granges  was  close  to  the  railr  ;ad  track,  and  not  more 
than  fort}T  feet  from  the  bridge.  As  they  got  to  the  bank, 
the  men,  women  and  children,  to  the  number  of  twenty- 
three,  got  out  and  made  for  the  river.  I  was  some 
distance  from  them  and  went  to  the  junction  of  the  two 
rivers,  opposite  to  them  ;  we  tried  to  talk  across,  but  the 
roar  of  the  waters  prevented  us  from  hearing  one  another. 
They  went  back  to  their  wagons  ;  two  horses  were  then 
taken  from  one  of  the  wagons,'  unharnessed  and  two  men 
mounted  them  and  rode  down  into  the  river  and  out  on 
its  opposite  banks,  then  they  rode  on  about  eight  rods  and 
down  into  the  larger  river  and  across  to  where  I  was. 
The  first  river  was  about  four  rods  across,  the  second 
about  eight  rods.  As  soon  as  they  got  to  me,  they  com 
menced  asking  me,  where  I  was  from,  where  going  and 
how  long  had  I  been  at  the  river?  I  told  them  where  I  was 
from  and  where  I  intended  to  haul  up,  and  so  on.  I  told  them 
that  I  reached  this  river  3*esterday,  and  had  been  waiting 
there  since  that  time,  and  now  I  will  cross  with  them.  They 
recrossed  the  river,  I  following  close  after  and  got  over  all 
right.  The  teamsters  now  got  ready  to  cross  with  their 
wagons  and  I  watched  them  at  a  distance  of  twelve  rods. 
They  drove  their  largest  wagon  first  down  into  the  river, 


BLACK  FORK  RIVER.  205 

the  two  men  on  horseback  leading.  As  the  big,  heavy 
team  went  into  the  river,  the  wheels  sunk  deep  into  the 
mud,  but  the  horses  were  game  and  pulled  it  across  the 
two  rivers  all  right.  The  second  wagon  got  across  with 
the  same  good  fortune  and  returned  for  the  third  team, 
which  was  the  covered  light  carriage,  with  springs,  the 
horses  were  fine  and  spirited  ones.  In  this  carriage  were 
four  women  and  two  children.  As  they  were  going  down 
into  the  river,  the  bank  being  cut  up  by  the  other  teams  in 
crossing,  the  horses  stepped  deep  into  the  mud  and  began 
to  act  meanly.  The  driver,  however,  was  an  excellent 
horseman  and  spoke  to  his  horses  sharply,  and  led  them 
out  safely.  One  of  the  women,  however,  was  so  badly 
frightened  that  she  lay  unconscious  for  over  two  hours. 
The  fourth  vehicle  was  got  across  all  right ;  it  was  eleven 
o'clock  when  we  all  had  forded  the  two  rivers,  and  seeing 
them  safely  across  I  went  on  my  way  and  about  three 
o'clock  I  came  to  another  river.  I  followed  this  river  for 
several  miles,  until  coming  to  a  fine  plat  of  grass  where  I 
went  into  camp  for  the  night,  turning  my  cattle  loose  to 
graze.  I  made  a  fire  and  got  my  supper,  and  after  bring 
ing  the  cattle  and  fastening  them  up  for  the  night  I  went 
to  bed. 

On  the  24th,  on  the  banks  of  the  Black  Fork  river,  I 
was  up  making  ready  to  move  on.  While  setting  my  own 
breakfast  I  allowed  my  cattle  free  range  of  grass  and  then 
a  feed  of  grain.  I  left  camp  about  six  o'clock  ;  it  was  a 
fine  morning  as  I  left  the  Black  Fork  river,  and  having 
a  good  trail  I  went  on  my  way  with  merry  glee.  About 
eleven  o'clock  we  came  to  some  good  water  where  we 
stopped  ;  I  gave  water  and  grain  to  my  cattle  and  took  a 
dish  of  cold  coffee  myself;  this  was  all  I  cared  for.  I 
did  not  stop  long  and  as  my  journey  continued  the  road 
grew  rougher.  About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I 
met  a  train  of  six  teams ;  I  stopped  and  passed  the 


206  BITTER  CREEK. 


compliments  of  the  da}-,  saying,  "Gentlemen,  where  are 
you  from  and  where  going?"  "We  are  from  Kansas  and 
have  not  decided  finally  where  to  locate.  We  started, 
however,  for  Oregon,  but  it  is  a  long  road,  and  a  rough 
one  at  that.  Stranger,  where  are  you  from  and  where 
are  you  bound  to?"  "I  am  from  Ogden  and  going  East." 
"How  far  East,  we  would  like  to  know,  stranger?"  "I 
can't  say  for  certainty,  no  more  than  you,  but  should  I 
have  luck,  I  may  go  as  far  as  Massachusetts."  "Massa 
chusetts,  the  d — 1  you  are,  that  is  almost  the  jumping  off 
place."  "How  far  have  }*ou  come  to-day  ?"  "We  have 
come  from  Green  River  city,  about  twelve  miles  I  think." 
4tHow  far  is  it  to  water?"  "About  three  miles,  I  should 
think."  "How  far  have  you  come!"  "I  have  come 
from  the  Black  Fork  river,  about  fifteen  miles."  "Have 
we  got  to  ford  the  rivers?"  "No,  you  follow  the  river, 
3rou  do  not  have  to  ford  it ;  your  next  will  be  Hams  Fork, 
about  forty  miles  from  here."  After  bidding  each  other 
good-bye,  we  went  on.  On  coming  to  water,  I  gave  my 
cattle  water  and  grain  and  concluded  to  camp  here  for  the 
night.  My  surroundings  look  rough,  and  not  a  house  in 
sight.  I  gathered  some  sage  brush  ior  fuel,  made  a  good, 
rousing  fire,  got  supper  and  made  everything  ready  for 
the  night.  As  I  lay  on  my  bed,  to  the  right  of  me,  I 
heard  the  whistle  of  an  engine,Uhen  I  knew  that  we  were 
not  for  from  the  railroad.  After  a  time  I  was  lost  in  a 
sound  sleep. 

On  the  morning  of  the  25th  I  was  up  before  the  dawn 
of  da}r,  getting  ready  to  break  camp.  As  soon  as  it  was 
light  enough,  I  hauled  out  and  went  on.  About  eight 
o'clock  I  descended  a  steep  bluff  into  a  canyon  and  after 
travelling  about  a  mile  came  to  some  grass ;  I  stopped 
here,  giving  m}'  cattle  a  chance  at  it.  While  they  were 
feeding  I  gathered  some  fuel,  made  a  fire  and  boiled  some 
eggs  for  my  breakfast.  Having  heard  so  much  about 


GREEN  RIVER  CITY.  207 


Green  River  I  was  anxious  to  see  it ;  so  I  got  ready  and 
went  on.  I  am  still  in  the  canyon  and  ascending  a 
heavy  bluff  and  expect  soon  to  reach  the  river,  which  I 
did  at  half-past  eleven,  and  at  twelve  o'clock  we  cross 
Green  River  by  the  Ferry  boat.  I  went  on  down  to  the 
railroad  bridge  ;  this  bridge  spans  the  Bitter  Creek.  Here 
I  went  into  camp,  giving  my  cattle  the  last  of  2001bs.  of 
grain  I  had  bought  at  Evanston,  and  at  three  o'clock  I 
went  into  Green  River  city  for  grain  and  other  things.  I 
made  inquiries  if  there  were  two  roads  to  Laramie  city, 
and  was  told  there  were  ;  one  following  the  railroad,  the 
other  the  old  Emigrant  trail,  and  I  would  do  the  best  to 
take  the  Emigrant  trail ;  nine-tenths  of  the  travel  from 
Laramie  coming  by  that  trail.  The  railroad  trail  is  not 
travelled  enough  to  make  it  good,  if  travelled  more  it 
would  be  better  and  not  as  far  that  way.  When  the 
emigrant  is  in  Laramie  they  tell  him  to  take  the  Emigrant 
trail  to  Green  River  city.  "What  is  the  distance  to  Lar 
amie  by  the  old  Emigrant  trail?"  I  asked.  "By  the  rail 
road  ii  is  two  hundred  and  seventy-two  miles,  and  by  the 
Emigrant  trail  it  must  be  three  hundred  and  twenty-five 
miles."  "Can  I  get  grain  on  my  way?"  "No,  3^011  will 
have  to  buy  here  all  you  need  on  the  way."  "How  about 
grass?"  "You  will  not  find  much  grass,  our  Spring  has 
been  so  late  and  cold.  It  will  take  you  twelve  days  at 
least  to  get  to  Laramie.  On  the  last  two  or  three  days 
3'ou  ma}T  get  grass,  and  as  you  get  nearer  to  Laramie  3-011 
will  find  it  much  warmer."  "How  much  will  you  charge 
me  for  lOOlbs.  each  of  corn,  oats  and  barley?"  "I  shall 
charge  you  six  dollars  for  SOOlbs.,  that  is  the  least." 
"Why  didn't  you  say  seven  dollars^  you  could  have  got  it 
as  quickly  as  six  ;  }'ou  have  it  all  3'our  own  way  and  3'ou 
know  we  must  have  it.  In  Evanston,  I  only  paid  three 
dollars  for  2001bs.  It  came  from  Nebraska,  right  by 
your  door,  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  further.  I  sup 
pose  you  only  do  business  three  months  out  of  the  twelve, 


208  GREEN  RIVER  CITY. 


which  accounts  for  the  high  price."  "You  are  right  there, 
we  do  not  have  much  trade  after  the  emigrant  season  is 
over."  I  bought  the  grain  and  paid  for  it  and  my  wagon 
had  3001bs.  more  weight  on  it.  The  wagon  itself  only 
weighs  3251bs.  ;  pretty  slender  for  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
In  my  wagon  there  is  a  box  a  half  foot  deep,  a  half  foot 
wide,  and  three  feet  long,  water-tight,  in  which  are  cloth 
ing,  tea,  coffee,  sugar,  several  kinds  of  canned  meats  and 
some  tools,  such  as  a  wrench,  hammer,  hatchet,  saw, 
square  and  many  smaller  tools.  The  weight  of  the  whole 
being  about  1751bs.  ;  making  a  total  of  goods  of  50Ulbs. 
and  8001bs.  for  my  horse  to  draw.  When  passing  through 
creeks,  rivers  and  sloughs  I  get  on  and  ride,  thus  adding 
ISOlbs.  more,  for  the  horse  to  draw  through  and  up  the 
rivers  and  creeks.  About  six  o'clock  I  returned  to  my 
camping  ground,  inspected  my  wagon  and  made  the  weak 
places  stronger  and  more  perfect.  After  everything  had 
been  done  as  I  thought  could  be,  to  make  it  safer,  I 
prepared  for  the  night ;  securing  my  cattle  to  their  posts, 
made  up  my  bed  and  went  to  rest. 

On  the  morning  of  the  26th  J  left  Green  River  city  for 
Laramie,  where  I  arrived  on  the  10th  of  June.  Leaving  the 
city  I  followed  the  railroad  to  Rock  Springs,  where  I  left 
it  and  did  not  see  it  again  until  arriving  in  Laramie.  Af 
ter  leaving  the  city  and  having  travelled  about  six  miles, 
I  came  to  Bitter  Creek  river.  The  waters  are  said  to  be 
poisonous  and  cattle  are  not  allowed  to  drink  its  waters, 
In  fording  this  river  my  cattle  were  not  dry,  so  did  not 
attempt  to  drink.  About  twelve  I  made  Rock  Springs, 
which  is  a  telegraph  station.  Here  I  made  a  short  stop, 
giving  water  and  grain  to  the  cattle  and  took  a  dish  of 
cold  coffee  and  crackers  myself.  Here  I  leave  the  rail 
road  for  a  long  time.  About  four  miles  or  more  from 
here  I  met  an  ox  team,  accompanied  by  two  men,  and  in 
quired  if  "I  was  on  the  right  trail  for  Laramie?"  "You 


MILLER'S  CANYON.  209 


are  not ;  you  should  have  taken  the  other  trail,"  they 
said.  ''Then  I  shall  have  to  go  back  and  take  the  other 
trail?"  I  said.  "No,  go  on  a  little  further  and  turn  to 
your  left,  you  .will  come  into  the  trail."  I  went  on  and 
coming  to  the  place  turned  to  the  left,  as  I  had  been  told, 
coming  back  to  the  trail  all  right,  and  about  five  o'clock 
came  to  a  slough  ;  it  was  an  awful  looking  hole.  After 
looking  at  it  I  got  upon  my  wagon  and  drove  over  it  all 
right.  After  a  little  while  I  came  to  another  of  the  same 
kind,  which  I  passed  all  right.  Went  on,  coming  to  some 
grass,  which  was  fenced  in  and  some  cattle  feeding,  and 
going  on  a  little  further  came  to  a  house  and  barn.  After 
passing  the  house  we  came  to  a  good  grass  plat  where  I 
camped  for  the  night.  I  turned  my  cattle  loose  to  feed 
for  themselves,  while  I  gathered  some  fuel,  made  a  fire, 
prepared  some  coffee  and  cooked  some  dried  beef,  par 
taking  of  an  excellent  supper.  A  good  disli  of  coffee, 
well  seasoned  with  milk  and  sugar,  all  alone,  tastes  good, 
}rou  bet.  After  supper  I  brought  in  the  cattle,  gave  them 
some  grain  and  secured  them  for  the  night ;  spread  out 
my  blankets,  laid  down  and  allowed  myself  to  go  to  sleep. 
Just  think  of  it,  in  the  dead  of  the  night  to  wake  up  and 
find  3Tourself  alone  and  have  a  long  talk  with  my  cattle. 
My  dog,  Bertie,  is  at  all  times  with  me  in  my  bed. 

The  morning  of  the  27th  found  me  up  before  there  was 
any  light.  I  turned  the  cattle  loose  for  grass,  greased  my 
wagon,  made  a  fire,  bailed  coffee  and  eggs,  and  opened  a 
can  of  salmon.  My  breakfast  being  ready  I  brought  in 
the  cattle  and  gave  them  some  grain,  then  I  sat  down  to 
my  breakfast  to  be  ready  to  move  onwards  together.  Af 
ter  breakfast  started  onward  and  having  travelled  about  a 
mile  came  to  a  house.  Here  was  a  man,  his  wife  and  two 
children.  I  inquired  the  name  of  this  canyon.  "It  is 
called  Miller's  canyon,"  stranger."  "How  far  is  it  to 
Green  River  city?"  "Twenty-five  miles,  stranger." 


210  MILLER'S  CANYON. 


"How  far  to  the  next  house?"  "I  do  not  know  the 
distance,  but  it  is  a  long  way  ;  in  fact  I  never  was  east  of 
here  more  than  fifty  miles,  stranger."  "How  long  have 
you  been  here?"  "Six  years  or  more,  stranger."  I  left 
them  and  ascended  the  mountain,  attaining  its  summit — 
travelling  three-fourths  of  a  circle  in  the  distance  of 
eight  miles.  About  ten  o'clock  I  passed  a  trail  to  my 
left  and  on  a  board  nailed  to  a  post  I  read,  "To  Soda 
Springs,  crossing  Green  River  without  Ferry."  Went 
down  the  mountain  and. at  its  base  I  crossed  a  deep  gulch 
on  snow.  A  short  distance  from  this  gulch  I  came  to  a 
creek  of  good  water.  Here  we  stopped,  my  cattle  took 
water  and  grain,  nrvself  and  dog,  bread,  cheese  and  cold 
coffee.  We  go  on  our  road  to-day,  so  far  good,  no  rivers, 
creeks  or  sloughs.  The  day  is  fast  closing  ;  it  is  time  we 
should  have  come  to  grass.  I  have  travelled  all  day  and 
seen  none  ;  we  must  go  into  camp  without  water  or  grass. 
I  spoke  to  my  horse,  "Fanny,  we  will  go  no  further  to 
day  ;  we  have  no  grass  or  water,'  you  will  be  obliged  to 
eat  your  grain  without."  It  is  hard,  plenty  of  grass 
and  water  one  day  and  none  the  next.  I  drove  into  the 
sage  bush,  just  out  of  the  trail  and  stopped.  Fed  my 
cattle  with  grain,  spread  my  blankets  on  the  ground  and 
laid  down  for  the  night,  but  could  not  go  to  sleep.  I  would 
lay  awhile  and  then  get  up  and  talk  to  my  cattle  and  then 
lay  down  again,  but  could  not  drop  off  to  sleep.  Several 
times  I  got  up  and  laid  down  again,  and  after  a  while  I 
dropped  off  to  sleep,  not  knowing  it  at  the  time. 

On  the  morning  of  the  28th  I  was  up  again  before  it 
was  light  enough  to  travel.  I  gave  my  cattle  grain,  but 
they  would  not  touch  ij  they  were  so  thirsty.  As  soon  as 
light  came  I  drove  into  the  trail  and  moved  on.  I  knew 
that  my  cattle  must  have  water,  so.  I  drove  on  as  fast  as 
possible  ;  after  travelling  about  eight  miles  we  came  to 
water,  which  I  tested  and  found  it  fair  water,  so  I  gave  to 


MILLER'S  CANYON.  211 


the  cattle  as  much  as  they  would  drink.  After  which  I 
gave  them  their  grain,  and  while  they  were  eating  had 
breakfast  of  crackers  and  milk.  I  did  not  stop  long,  but 
went  on  and  about  ten  o'clock  met  a  man  on  horseback, 
leading  a  pack-horse.  "Good  morning,  stranger,"  I  said. 
"Good  morning,  sir."  "How  far  have  3Tou  come  this 
morning?"  I  asked.  "About  ten  or  twelve  miles,"  he 
said.  "Did  your  horses  have  grass  last  night?"  I  asked. 
"No,  not  any ;  I  should  have  stopped  at  the  creek,  there 
was  grass  there,"  he  said.  "How  is  the  trail  on  ahead?" 
I  asked.  "First  best  for  me  ;  I  can  go  anywhere  as  I 
am,* you  can't  with  }'our  wagon."  "Where  are  you  go 
ing  to?"  I  asked.  "I  am  going  to  California,"  he  said. 
"California,  I  am  just  from  there."  "You  from  Cali 
fornia  ;  what,  you  have  not  come  from  California  with 
that  outfit?"  he  asked.  "I  have  ;  just  as  I  am,  and  I  am 
going  East,  to  Massachusetts,"  I  answered.  "The  d — 1 
you  are.  Well,  I  will  give  it  up,  if  you  have  come  so 
far,  I  think  I  ought  to  do  as  much  ;  good-bye,  stranger." 
"Goodie,  sir."  We  parted  and  went  on,  I  saying, 
"Well,  Fanny  and  Bessie,  we  must  make  that  creek  before 
night.  There  is  grass,  you  did  not  get  any  last  night ; 
to-night  you  may  get  some."  On  we  went,  a  good  trail 
-and  down  grade ;  we  are  travelling  at  the  rate  of  three 
miles  an  hour,  and  about  four  p.  m,,  I  made  a  stop  of 
about  thirty  minutes,  giving  the  cattle  some  grain,  after 
which  we  went  on.  Talking  to  my  horse  I  said,  "Come, 
Fanny,  do  your  best,  it  is  a  good  road,  you  shall  have 
grass  to-night."  I  was  crowding  along  as  fast  as  I 
could,  when  looking  off  to  my  left,  saw  smoke,  and  soon 
I  came  to  tracks  of  wagons  and  was  sure  there  was  a 
camp  some  where  near.  When  the  horse  saw  these  tracks 
she  stopped,  looking  around.  I  said,  "Fanny,  we  will  go 
in  here  and  follow  those  tracks  and  see  what  we  can  find." 
Travelling  around  a  bluff  we  came  in  sight  of  a  camp — a 
tent  and  three  wagons  and  eight  horses  ;  five  men,,  a  boy, 


212  MILLER'S  CANYON. 


two  women  and  a  girl.  As  I  went  into  the  camp  I  called 
out,  ''Don't  be  afraid,*!  have  come  to  see  who  is  here  !" 
"Come  in,  stranger ;  you  are  welcome,"  was  answered. 
"I  am  going  East  and  you  are  going  West,  I  suppose. 
Can  I  st  >p  with  you  to-night,  or  in  other  words,  can  I  go 
into  camp  here?"  I  asked.  "Yes,  sir;  you  can,'*  was 
answered.  I  detached  the  horse  from  the  wagon  and  un 
harnessed  her,  turning  her  loose/  and  she  went  rolling 
about  for  some  time.  I  gave  the  cow  the  same  chance, 
but  she  went  for  the  grass.  It  is  half-past  six  and  I  went 
to  gather  fuel  for  a  fire.  "Stranger,  do  your  cooking  by  our 
fire  ;  don't  trouble  yourself  in  making  a  fire."  I  got  my 
supper,  such  as  coffee,  boiled  eggs,  crackers  and  milk. 
I  brought  in  my  cattle  for  the  night,  securing  and  giving 
them  their  grain,  made  up  my  bed  and  went  to  rest. 

On  the  morning  of  the  29th,  all  hands  around  the  camp 
were  up  early,  making  ready  for  a  departure ;  it  is  a 
lively  camp.  Cattle  were  fed,  wagons  greased  and  break 
fast  prepared.  I  was  invited  to  breakfast  with  the  rest  of 
the  company,  all  making  the  ground  our  table.  The 
breakfast  comprised  bacon,  eggs,  warm  bread  and  coffee. 
Remember,  I  have  a  cow  that  has  given  milk  even7  day 
since  calving,*  she  is  now  four  years  old  and  has  had  two 
calves.  On  this  occasion  I  found  milk  for  all.  After 
breakfast  we  made  ready  and  moved  on  our  respective 
ways.  It  is  six  o'clock  as  I  leave  the  camp.  It  is  a  fine 
morning  and  the  road  good.  The  wind  is  freshening  up 
and  clouds  are  gathering;  it  looks  as  if  we  are  to  have  a 
change  of  weather  ;  it  is  warm  and  sultry  and  begins  to 
look  like  rain.  I  crowd  on  as  fast  as  I  can — remember  it 
is  all  walk  and  nothing  else — after  a  while  it  began  to  rain 
and  the  wind  blew  a  gale.  I  stopped  to  make  the  things 
on  the  wagon  more  secure;  as  I  could  see  no  place  for 
shelter  or  cover,  we  have  to  stand  and  take  it.  A  flash 
of  lightning  and  a  peal  of  thunder  startled  us  and  set  me 


ANTELOPE  SPRINGS.  213 


thinking  of  my  loneliness  ;  sometimes  this  thought  troubles 
rne  considerably.  What  if  some  serious  accident  happens 
to  me  ?  The  storm  did  not  last  long,  but  it  left  the  roads 
dangerous  travelling ;  my  horse  could  scarcely  ascend  a 
hill,  but  descending  was  even  worse,  on  account  of  the 
slipperyness.  I  continued  on,  hoping  to  come  to  some 
place  where  we  could  stay,  at  least  over  night.  I  came  to 
a  cross-trail,  leading  to  the  right  and  left ;  not  knowing 
which  to  take,  I  concluded  to  stop,  as  I  have  found  such 
trails  to  my  disadvantage.  I  had  not  been  here  more 
than  an  hour  before  a  team  came  along  the  right  trail  and 
stopped  when  he  got  to  me,  saying,  "Stranger,  I  have 
been  trying  to  travel  since  the  storm,  but  my  horse  slips  so 
bad  I  am  afraid  she  will  injure  herself."  "I  am  in  the  same 
fix.  It  is  dangerous  travelling ;  I  have  been  travelling 
an  hour  down  the  mountains,  and  my  horse  has  been 
down  twice.  I  am  looking  for  water.  Antelope  Springs 
are  not  far  from  here  ;  have  you  come  past  them,  stran 
ger?"  "No,  sir,"  I  answered.  "Then  they  must  be  on 
this  trail."  "Are  3-011  alone,"  I  asked.  "No,  stranger ; 
there  is  another  team  a  little  ways  back."  "Where  are 
you  from?"  Tasked.  "lam  from  Laramie  ;  where  are 
you  from?"  asked  the  stranger.  "I  am  from  Ogden." 
"You  from  Ogden  !  I  am  going  there  and  then  to  Salt 
Lake  city,"  said  the  stranger.  "What!  are  you  a  Mor 
mon?"  "No,  I  am  not  a  Mormon  ;  are  you?"  asked  the 
stranger.  "No,  I  am  not,  but  I  know  something  about 
them,  as  I  have  lived  amongst  them  some  eight  months. 
I  left  Ogden  on  the  14th  instant,  and  have  come  so  far 
since  that  time."  "Where  are  you  going  to?"  asked  the 
stranger.  "I  am  going  to  Laramie,"  I  replied.  "How 
is  the  road  to  Ogden  ;  what  rivers  have  }*ou  forded?"  "I 
forded  Bear  river,  Muddy  creek,  Hams  Fork  and  Bitter 
creek.  These  are  all  of  any  account ;  small  creeks  are 
the  worst  to  cross,"  I  answered.  He  went  on  up  the  left 
trail,  I  following  in  his  rear.  We  had  gone  but  a  short 


214  ANTELOPE  SPRINGS. 

distance  when  we  came  to  a  small  creek,  were  we  stopped 
and  gave  our  cattle  water.  We  then  went  on  our  way 
and  came  to  a  good  valley  where  we  found  a  herd  of 
horses,  ninety  in  number,  in  charge  of  two  men,  who 
were  bound  to  Laramie.  Here,  we  also  found  an  Emi 
grant  tram,  twelve  in  number,  bound  for  Oregon.  En 
tering  this  valley,  on  our  left  are  the  springs,  known  as 
Antelope  Springs.  It  is  three  o'clock  and  all  propose  to 
stop  until  we  can  travel.  There  is  not  much  grass  but 
plenty  of  water.  The  herd  of  horses  have  eaten  nearly 
all  the  grass.  I  secured  the  cow  with  her  lariat,  the  horse 
I  dared  not  turn  loose i  nor  stake  her  out.  This  is  a 
most  wonderful  place  ;  not  more  than  fifty  acres  in  ex 
tent,  almost  surrounded  by  mountains.  There  is  two  en 
trances  to  the  valley ;  one  from  the  East  and  one  from 
the  West.  A  fine  harbor  it  makes,  only  one  thing  is 
lacking,  that  is  wood  ;  not  a  particle  of  fuel  can  be  found, 
it  has  been  so  closely  gathered  up.  I  was  informed  that 
here  was  the  best  water  to  be  found  between  Ogden  and 
Laramie.  Here  I  will  say,  that  if  I  ever  travel  in  this 
manner  again,  I  will  carry  an  oil  stove  for  cooking  pur 
poses,' it  will  save  much  labor  in  gathering  fuel ;  you  can 
gather  sage  brush,  but  wood  is  almost  out  of  the  question 
across  the  plains.  When  I  entered  this  valley,  beside 
the  herd  of  horses,  I  found  twelve  wagons,  twenty-four 
horses  and  sixty-three  persons,  men,  women  and  child 
ren,  all  for  Ogden.  The  other  two  teams  were  for 
Salt  Lake  city.  It  is  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  and  time 
to  prepare  for  the  night.  Supper  comes  first,  there  is  no 
wood  of  which  to  make  a  fire.  I  have  kerosene  oil,  but 
I  use  it  for  my  lantern  and  lighting  a  fire,  and  have  found 
it  very  convenient  many  times  for  this  purpose.  Of 
these  teams,  there  are  two  which  have  no  men  with  them. 
They  are  conducted  by  two  women  and  eight  children, 
four  boys  and  four  girls — ten  persons  in  all.  These 
women  are  Germans,  and  they  had  brought  with  them  the 


ANTELOPE  SPRINGS.  215 

spare  wood  from  last  night's  camp,  and  they  were  the 
only  ones  who  had  an}*  wood.  This  wood  made  tea  and 
coffee  for  the  whole  camp.  After  supper  preparations  for 
the  night  were  made.  The  ground  is  quite  wet.  The 
camp  for  the  night  had  eleven  tents,  all  arranged  in  a 
circle.  In  the  rear  of  each  tent  is  a  wagon,  and  the  horses 
are  made  fast  to  the  rear  of  each.  I  was  invited  to  come 
into  the  circle,  but  declined,  having  no  tent — preferring  to 
sleep  with  my  cattle.  This  camp  is  under  good  discip 
line,  and  has  a  watchman  for  each  night.  This  is  essen 
tial  ;  should  anything  strange  or  serious  occur  in  or  around 
the  camp  it  is  made  known  to  all.  Having  the  camp  ar 
ranged  for  the  night  and  while  sitting  around,  one  of  the 
compaivy  said,  "Stranger  from  California,  we  would  like 
to  hear  from  you,  about  your  travels.  We  are  going  to 
Oregon,  now  give  us  a  route  thereto."  "Captain,  what 
part  of  Oregon  do  you  intend  to  settle  in?"  "We  intend 
to  settle  on  lands  that  have  been  cultivated  to  some  ex 
tent,  say  in  the  vicinity  of  Portland,"  said  the  captain. 
"Portland  is  about  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  miles 
from  the  Pacific  Ocean.  Now,  1  would  go  from  here  to 
Green  River  city,  following  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  to 
Ogden,  by  way  of  Evanston.  At  Ogden  take  the  Central 
Pacific  Railroad  to  Corinne,  Kelton,  Terrace,  Wells,  Elko, 
Carlin.  About  five  miles  beyond  Carlin,  take  the  old 
Emigrant  trail  to  Beowawe  ;  there  you  are  on  the  railroad 
again.  Then  to  Battle  Mountain,  Golconda,  Winnemucca, 
Humboldt,  Wadsworth,  Reno.  Then  take  the  Virginia 
city  and  Marysville  turnpike  to  Webber's  Lake,  Jackson's 
Ranche,  Granite ville,  Nevada  city,  Grass  Valley  to 
Murysville.  There  you  should  take  the  California  and 
Oregon  road  to  Oregon.  This  is  as  far  as  I  can  tell  you. 
You  will  not  have  to  leave  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad 
for  any  length  of  time,  with  one  exception.  That  will  be 
from  Carlin  to  Beowawe." 


216  ANTELOPE  SPRINGS. 


On  the  morning  of  the  30th,  all  hands  were  up  before 
the  sun.  A  detail  was  made  and  sent  in  search  of  wood, 
but  nothing  but  sage  brush  could  be  found,  and  enough 
of  this  was  found  to  boil  all  the  water  that  was  neces- 
saiy  to  make  coffee  for  breakfast  for  the  whole  camp.  I 
milked  the  cow  and  contributed  it  to  the  general  stock, 
and  the  company  were  much  pleased  to  taste  milk  once 
more.  At  six  o'clock  all  had  finished  breakfast  and  got 
ready  to  break  camp.  It  was  decided  to  do  so  on  account 
of  the  scarcity  of  fuel  and  grass,  but  we  had  plenty  of  good 
water,  such  as  we  shall  not  find  for  many  miles.  As  we 
were  about  to  part,  the  captain  of  the  camp,  John  H. 
Standly,  said,  " Stranger  from  California,  bound  East  to 
Massachusetts,  we  sincerely  hope  that  you  will  succeed  in 
your  great  undertaking.  Travelling  alone  as  you  are, 
not  knowing  what  you  may  have  to  encounter,  (perhaps, 
it  is  as  well  you  do  not)  we  know,  and  can't  help  but 
think  of  you  daily.  We  would  like  to  know  whether  you 
succeed  in  getting  through  your  journey  safely."  I  an 
swered,  "Strangers  from  Kansas,  I  thank  you  kindly  for 
your  S}Tmpathy  in  my  behalf,  hoping  that  }rou  all  may 
reach  your  destination  in  safet}r.  I  know  what  you  will 
have  to  encounter.  Moving  as  an  army  ;  if  you  get  into 
a  tight  place  3*0  u  can  get  out  of  it ;  you  are  not  alone  as 
I  am.  Strangers,  I  bid  you  all  good-bye."  As  I  left 
them,  they  gave  three  cheers  for  the  man  from  California, 
bound  East  to  Massachusetts. 


It  was  half-past  eight  o'clock  when  we  broke  camp, 
each  going  his  seperate  way.  It  was  a  delightfully 
warm  morning,  but  hard  travelling  for  my  horse,  as  she 
kept  slipping,  but  as  the  day  advanced  the  travelling  im 
proved.  About  twelve  at  noon,  I  stopped  and  gave  the 
cattle  a  feed  of  grain.  No  water  for  them  as  warm  as  it 
had  been  in  the  morning ;  it  was  rather  hard  on  them. 
My  stop  was  short  as  I  wished  to  get  to  some  water. 


THE  BLUFF.  217 


About  two  o'clock  I  met  a  train  of  four  wagons  and  I 
asked  them  "How  far  is  it  to  water?"  "We  have  seen 
none  since  leaving  camp  this  morning,  stranger."  "How 
far  have  you  come,  think  you?"  "About  twelve  miles  I 
think.  Stranger,  how  far  have  3*011  come?"  "About  the 
same  distance."  "When  did  you  cross  any  rivers  or 
creeks  last?"  I  asked.  "We  have  seen  none  for  many 
miles."  "How  far  from  the  road  were  you  camped  last 
night?"  I  asked.  "Oh,  not  far;  about  forty  rods,  not 
more.  We  turned  in  on  our  right  and  made  a  high  bluff, 
around  the  bluff  we  found  both  water  and  grass  ;  you  will 
see  our  tracks,  we  have  made  some  deep  ones  to-day, 
stranger."  "Where  are  you  from?"  I  asked.  "We  are 
from  Colorado.  Where  are  you  from,  stranger?"  "I  am 
from  California."  "What,  you  all  the  way  from  Califor 
nia?"  "Yes,  all  the  way."  "That  beats  the  d— 1. 
Have  you  brought  that  cow  all  the  way  from  California, 
stranger?"  "No,  I  did  not  say  that  I  brought  that  cow 
from  California,  but  led  her  all  the  way.  She  has  walked 
all  that  distance,"  I  said.  "Where  are  you  going  to, 
stranger?"  "I  am  going  to  Massachusetts."  "Oh,  h — 1 ! 
where  are  }'ou  going,  honest?"  said  the  stranger.  "Hon 
est,  I  am  going  East,  to  Massachusetts.  Where  are 
y ou  going?"  I  asked.  "We  are  bound  to  Washington 
Territory."  After  this  conversation  we  bade  good-bye 
and  went  on  our  several  ways.  About  six  o'clock  I  came 
to  the  tracks  made  by  the  teams  I  had  met.  I  turned  in 
and  followed  the  tracks  around  the  bluff  and  came  to 
water.  Here  I  stopped  and  made  my  camp  for  the 
night.  I  detached  the  horse  from  the  wagon,  removing 
her  harness  and  let  her  loose,  the  cow  also ;  the  horse 
went  in  for  rolling,  the  cow  for  grazing.  I  went  gather 
ing  sage  brush  for  fuel  and  having  gathered  a  large  pile,  I 
set  it  on  fire,  prepared  a  hot  supper  and  ate  it.  'After 
supper  I  brought  in  my  cattle,  securing  them  and  gave 
them  their  evening  meal  of  grain,  made  up  my  bed  and 


218  THE  BLUFF. 


lay  down  to  rest.  As  I  la}'  down  on  my  bed  my  atten 
tion  was  drawn  towards  my  horse.  She  was  looking 
steadily  towards  the  bluff,  and  continued  to  for  some 
time.  I  looked  in  that  direction  but  could  see  nothing  ; 
still  she  kept  looking  all  the  same.  All  at  once  I  saw 
what  had  attracted  the  attention  of  my  horse.  It  was  a 
herd  of  deer  coming  down  the  bluffs  for  grass  and  water. 
They  were  not  more  than  twenty  rods  from  us.  I  did  not 
trouble  them,  and  told  them  to  remain  as  long  as  they 
wished,  and  they  did  remain.  I  did  not  let  my  fire  go  out 
as  I  thought  there  might  be  something  more  than  deer 
around.  It  has  been  m}T  custom  at  nights  to  tie  my  dog 
to  the  wagon,  since  I  was  so  near  losing  him  when  I  was 
travelling  among  the  sheep  ranches  and  was  annoyed  by 
coyottes.  They  were  around  me  continually  ;  I  did  not 
know  what  to  do  to  stop  their  infernal  noise.  One  morn 
ing  I  was  up  early  and  saw  one  a  short  distance  from  me. 
I  set  the  dog  on  him  and  the  coyotte  turned  on  the  dog. 
I  tried  to  call  the  dog  off,  but  the  little  boobee  was  only 
the  more  courageous,  and  since  that  time  I  have  been 
more  particular  about  setting  him  on  to  the  wild  animals. 

The  last  da}r  of  May,  31st,  I  was  up  earl}',  as  usual, 
getting  ready  to  strike  out.  At  six  o'clock  I  left  the 
camp  and  at  eight  I  made  the  mountain's  base  on  the  left, 
travelling  east,  I  came  to  a  stop.  I  left  my  cattle  and 
ascended  the  mountain,  when  about  half-way  up  I  stopped 
hesitating,  but  walked  to  the  summit.  Beyond  I  could 
see  a  great  distance.  Here  my  imagination  carried  me 
home.  Well,  here  I  am  ;  my  cattle  are  yonder  at  the  base. 
I  went  back  to  them,  saying  to  the  horse,  "Fanny,  can 
you  make  this  mountain  ?  I  think  }rou  can,  but  you  will 
have  to  work  smart  to  do  it."  My  weight  is  about  GOOlbs. 
in  all.  "Fanny,"  I  said,  "you  can't  take  it  all  at  once  ; 
we  must  make  two  loads  of  it."  I  took  the  grain  from 
the  carriage  and  left  it  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  I  did  not 


THE  MOUNTAIN.  219 


leave  the  cow,  knowing  that  she  is  good  at  going  up  hills, 
her  halter  being  at  all  times  slack.  The  horse  succeeded  in 
drawicg  up  the  load  after  a  hard  pull ;  then  we  returned 
for  the  grain,  taking  the  cow  back  with  us  to  act  as  a 
brake  on  going  down  the  hill.  I  then  re-loaded  the 
grain  and  took  up  the  second  load  ;  this  is  the  worst  hill 
I  have  travelled  so  far  on  my  journey — if  there  are  any 
mountains  in  Wyoming  this  must  be  one  of  them.  In 
journeying  from  the  East  this  hill  is  not  near  so  hard  as 
from  the  West.  It  was  just  twelve  at  noon  as  we  made 
the  summit  the  last  time.  I  gave  the  cattle  some  grain 
and  when  they  had  finished  eating  went  on  further,  and 
about  two  o'clock  we  came  to  a  small  creek  at  an  oppor 
tune  time,  as  the  cattle  were  very  thirsty  and  they  drank 
freely.  Going  on  we  travelled  a  good  down  grade,  with 
a  tip-top  trail,  crowding  along  as  fast  as  we  could.  In 
fact,  to-day  I  am  feeling  well.  As  I  travelled  along  I 
saw  smoke  in  front  of  us  and  I  am  sure  the  horse  saw  it 
also,  as  she  pricked  her  ears  until  we  came  to  a  camp, 
where  I  stopped  and  inquired  if  there  was  any  water  near 
by,  how  they  had  come  and  where  they  made  camp  last 
night  and  if  there  were  any  rivers  to  ford  ?  I  ask  such 
questions  whenever  I  meet  such  trains  of  travellers. 
This  company  consisted  of  five  wagons,  twelve  horses, 
four  tents  and  twenty-two  persons,  hailing  from  Kansas, 
on  their  way  to  Oregon.  "Where  are  you  from  and 
where  are  you  going?"  asked  the  strangers.  "I  am 
from  California,  going  East,"  I  replied.  "You  from 
California,  going  East.  What,  don't  you  like  California, 
stranger?"  "Yes,  but  like  the  East  much  better,"  I 
answered.  "That  beats  the  d — 1 ;  ain't  you  just  a  little 
craz}^?"  "No,  not  much,'*  I  said.  "You  have  not 
brought  that  cow  from  California,  have  you?"  "No,  I 
have  not  brought  her  a  step,  I  have  led  her  all  the  way  as 
you  now  see,"  I  remarked.  "Ha,  ha-ha  !"  laughed  the 
stranger.  "I'll  bet  you  are  a  Yankee."  "Yes,  I  am." 


220  THE  MOUNTAIN. 


"Here,  come  with  me."  I  went  with  him  to  his  wagon,' 
there  he  took  out  a  small  barrel  that  would  hold  about  a 
gallon,  took  out  the  stopple  and  drank,  I  should  think  as 
much  as  a  pint,  and  then  handed  it  to  me,  saying, 
"Drink,  Yankee,  drink,  it  will  do  you  good.  I  have 
plenty  more."  I  took  it  and  drank  three  small  swallows, 
and  handed  it  back  to  the  man,  he  taking  another  drink 
and  then  handed  it  to  me  again,  but  I  refused  to  drink 
an}'  more.  I  then  said,  "I  will  stop  here  over  night  if 
3"ou  will  allow  me  to  do  so?"  "Yes,  stranger,  stop  with 
us  over-night.  I  will  find  the  whisky."  "I  will  milk  the 
cow  and  we  will  have  some  good  coffee,'  that  will  be 
better  than  whisky,"  I  answered.  It  is  now  about  six 
o'clock,  rather  early  to  go  into  camp,  but  we  will  make  it 
up  to-morrow.  "Where  is  the  water?"  I  asked.  "You 
can  have  some  of  ours;  we  carry  it  in  a  barrel  and  don't 
intend  to  be  without ;  we  keep  the  barrels  full.  This  we 
got  at  Platt  River  ;  we  were  in  camp  there  last  night  and 
came  from  there  to-da}T."  About  how  many  miles  have 
you  made  to-day  ?"  I  asked.  "About  twenty  miles."  I 
gave  my  cattle  water  and  grain,  remarking  that  it  was 
getting  low,  half  gone,  but  it  must  last  until  I  reach 
Laramie,  as  there  is  none  to  be  bought  this  side  of  that 
place.  The  teamster  said,  "It  was  not  so,"  I  could  get 
grain  where  I  should  cross  the  river,  which  I  would  reach 
to-morrow.  Then  you  will  follow  the  river  to  the  bridge, 
just  put  up  by  Uncle  Sam,  and  beyond  the  bridge  you  will 
come  to  a  store.  There  you  can  get  grain,  flour,  bacon, 
tea,  coffee,  sugar  and  all  the  whisk}r  you  want."  When 
in  Green  River  city  I  Avas  told  that  I  would  have  to  take 
grain  that  would  last  me  till  I  reached  Laramie,  and  you 
say  that  I  can  get  grain  after  crossing  the  river?"  "Yes, 
all  3rou  want."  "I  bought  enough  to  last  me  to  Laramie. 
Had  I  known  that  I  could  buy,  it  would  have  saved  me 
hauling  it  this  distance.  I  will  feed  my  cattle  a  little 
more.  How  many  days  have  you  been  coming  from 


PLATTE  VALLEY.  221 


Laramie?"  I  asked.  "Left  Laramie  on  the  24th,  eight 
da}*s,"  answered  the  stranger.  "About  how  many  miles, 
think  you?"  "About  one  hundred  and  forty.  We  ought 
to  travel  about  twenty  miles  a  day,  but  our  first  day  out, 
we  only  travelled  to  the  river."  "What  river?"  I  asked. 
"I  do  not  know  the  name."  "I  want  some  hot  coffee  and 
want  to  go  to  bed,  as  I  desire  to  start  early  in  the  morn 
ing  and  make  that  store."  "Oh,  let  your  coffee  go,  take 
a  drink  of  whisky-,  that  will  do  you  some  good,"  said  the 
stranger.  "Friend,  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  taking  such 
strong  stuff;  it  does  us  no  good,'  you  must  excuse  me." 
"Yes,  I  will,  but,  stranger,  I  tell  }TOU  that  you  had  better 
get  some  whisky  when  you  get  to  the  store  ;  it  will  help 
you  along  so  much  easier.  You  have  got  a  hard  road  be 
fore  3*011 ;  3'ou  have  got  to  cross  what  will  make  }TOU 
quail."  "Friend,  I  am  alone  and  must  keep  my  head 
clear;  it  will  not  do  for  me  to  meddle  with  that  whisky 
much  ;  it  is  good  where  it  belongs,  if  yon  kn:>w  where 
that  is."  "Well,  we  will  go  to  bed  and  get  up  early  in 
the  morning  for  a  good,  early  start."  Securing  my  cattle 
I  went  to  bed. 

On  the  morning  of  June  1st,  I  was  up  at  five  o'clock 
making  all  preparations  for  moving  on.  My  neighbors 
were  not  yet  up,  so  I  hollered  out,  "Strangers,  I  am  all 
ready  to  leave  you^  If  you  have  any  message  to  send 
East,  now  is  your  time  !"  The  old  gentleman  answered, 
"Hold  on  a  minute  !  Stranger,  you  are  going  East  and  I 
West,  we  shall  never  meet  again,  so  here  is  luck  and 
prosperity  to  you,  hoping  you  will  have  a  good  voyage." 
He  drank  and  urged  me  to  drink.  I  said,  "Friend,  I  am 
not  in  the  habit  of  doing  this,  but  to  please  you,  I  do  so. 
I  really  think  it  does  more  harm  than  good  ;  good  morn 
ing.  I  hope  you  will  succeed  on  your  long  journey,"  I 
remarked.  "Good  morning,' I  hope  you  will  get  along 
all  right,  you  have  a  hard  road  to  Laramie."  I  left  them 


222  PLATTE  VALLEY. 


soon  after  five  o'clock,'  it  was  a  very  fine  morning:  and  a 
good  trail,'  all  were  in  harmony.  About  eight  o'clock  we 
came  to  a  creek  and  I  allowed  my  cattle  to  take  as  much 
water  as  they  pleased,  making  but  a  short  stop.  Had  I 
company,  how  pleasant  it  would  be  ;  my  animals  are  my 
only  company.  I  talk  with  them  as  though  they  were 
human  and  think  they  understand  me  ;  I  have  no  doubt 
about  this.  This  is  my  seventh  day  from  Green  River 
cit}',  about  half-way  to  Laramie.  I  am  now  in  sight  of 
Platte  Valley.  I  have  been  descending  since  making  the 
summit  of  the  hill  yesterda}7.  A  good  road  is  cheering 
such  as  I  have  had  for  the  past  two  days  ;  one  hour  more 
and  I  shall  be  on  the  banks  of  the  river.  I  see  smoke  in 
that  direction,  also  teams,  any  quantity  of  them.  There 
appears  a  large  camp  close  by  the  river ;  there  is  grass 
and  horses  feeding.  "Come,  Fann}',  go  on;  we  will  soon 
be  there,"  I  said.  At  a  distance  she  saw  the  horses  and 
whinnied  loudly.  We  made  for  the  camp  and  as  I  made 
it  was  completely  taken  in ;  men,  women  and  children 
surrounded  me  asking  many  questions.  "Stranger,  where 
in  h — 1  have  you  come  from,  from  the  West,  have  you 
not?"  "I  have  come  from  the  West,  but  your  first  ques 
tion  I  am  not  able  to  answer.  I  don't  know  that  place,'  I 
never  was  there  ;  I  have  heard  of  it,  perhaps  3'ou  can  tell 
me  where  it  is?  Oh,  I  came  through  it  my  first  day  from 
Green  River  city  ;  you  will  find  it  before  you  get  there,"  I 
remarked.  "You  will,  surely  before  you  get  to  Laramie. 
I  will  bet  you  are  a  Yankee,"  was  answered.  "Well, 
you  are  a  good  guesser.  I  am.  I  would  like  to  stop 
here  to-night ;  }-ou  may  ask  me  any  questions  you  like. 
I  am  from  California,  just  as  }~ou  see  me,  with  horse,  car 
riage,  cow  and  dog.  I  can  make  it  interesting  to  you  ;  I 
want  my  horse  and  cow  to  have  some  grass.  I  see  there 
is  plenty  of  it  for  all.  I  will  let  them  both  loose  to  feed, 
at  the  same  time  I  will  give  you  a  history  of  my  travels. 
Have  you  had  your  bupper?"  I  asked.  "No,  we  have 


NORTH  PLATTE  RIVER.  223 

not,"  said  the  stranger.  "All  right,  I  want  some  hot  tea 
or  coffee ;  I  have  plenty  of  it,  and  not  only  that,  I  have 
yonder  cow  ;  she  has  given  me  milk  all  my  way  from  Cali 
fornia  to  this  place,  just  one  year  to  day.  The  first  of 
June,  1882,  we  left  Eureka  city,  Humboldt  county,  three 
hundred  and  three  miles  north  of  San  Francisco  ;  follow 
ing  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad  from  there  to  Ogden,  ar 
riving  at  the  latter  place  on  the  23rd  of  September.  On 
the  14th  of  May  last,  we  left  Ogden  arid  have  travelled  to 
this  very  place,  North  Platte  River."  "About  how  many 
miles  have  you  travelled  since  you  left  California,  stran 
ger?"  was  asked.  "On  my  arrival  in  Ogden  I  found 
that  I  had  travelled  fourteen  hundred  and  twenty-seven 
miles."  "Where  are  you  going  to,  stranger?"  "I  am 
going  to  Massachusetts  ;  when  I  get  there  I  am  at  home." 
"About  how  far  is  it  from  here,  stranger?"  "About  two 
thousand  live  hundred  miles."  "More  than  four  thousand 
miles  you  will  have  travelled.  How  far  has  that  cow 
come  with  you?"  "She  has  come  all  the  distance  ;  I  left 
with  the  same  outfit  I  now  have."  "I  saw  last  fall  in 
some  paper  of  a  man  earning  from  California  and  going 
to  Massachusetts,  and  you  are  the  man.  Well,  well,  you 
are  a  brick ;  you  will  be  well  burned  by  the  time  you 
get  to  Massachusetts.  We  shall  weary  you  all  out  asking 
questions.  Our  supper  is  ready,  come  with  me  and  get 
some  hot  coffee,  stranger."  "Thank  you,  I  will."  After 
supper  I  asked,  "How  large  a  camp  have  you  ?"  "We 
have  twenty-one  wagons,  forty-eight  horses  and  one  hun 
dred  and  one  persons,  all  told,  bound  for  Washington 
Territory.  Now,  how  shall  we  go,  to  get  there  ?"  asked 
the  captain.  "What  part  of  the  territory  are  you  intend 
ing  to  settle  in?"  I  asked.  "The  western  part,  about  one 
hundred  miles  from  the  Pacific  Ocean."  "Only  a  few 
days'  ago  I  was  asked  about  the  same  question,  with  one 
exception,  that  was  Oregon  ;  about  the  same  distance 
from  the  ocean,  only  further  north.  Now,  suppose  I  give 


224  NORTH  PLATTE  RIVER. 

you  a  route,  due  west,  within  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
of  the  Pacific  Ocean  ;  that  would  be  to  Sacramento /your 
road  is  a  great  thoroughfare.  There  is  but  one  trail  to 
central  California,  that  is  Fremont's,'  all  other  trails  lead 
out  of  this.  We  will  start  from  this  very  spot,  North 
Platte  River  and  go  to  Green  River  cit}",  Evanston, 
Ogden.  From  Ogden  follow  the  Central  Pacific  Rail 
road  to  Carlin/  there  leave  the  railroad  and  cross  over  the 
mountain  to  Beowawe,  and  on  to  Reno.  At  this  place 
leave  the  railroad  trail  and  take  the  Henness  trail  to 
Graniteville,  Grass  Valley  to  Marysville.  At  this  last 
place  you  are  on  the  great  highway  for  Oregon ;  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
From  here  to  Green  River  city  it  is  a  very  disagreeable 
r  md,  but  had  I  had  company  it  might  have  seemed  differ 
ent;  travelling  alone  makes  things  look  dreary.  I  have 
met  many  teams,  most  of  them  were  from  Kansas. 
Where  are  you  from,  captain?"  "We  are  from  Kansas." 
"I  think  you  are  making  it  a  rough  road  for  those  in  your 
rear."  "We  do  cut  it  up  badly."  "It  makes  an  awful 
road  for  me  ;  how  is  it  from  Laramie  to  here?"  "It  is  very 
good,  but  the  rivers  and  creeks  are  awful  to  think  of. 
The  worst  place  was  on  our  first  da}r  from  Laramie, 
about  fifteen  miles  out.  It  is  a  flat,  wide  plat  of  meadow, 
adjoining  a  river,  which  you  have  to  ford  three  times  in 
less  than  twelve  rods.  Before  we  came  to  this  river,  we 
came  to  a  store  and  post-office.  About  a  mile  this  side 
of  the  store  is  an  awful  muddy  hole.  It  took  us  nearly 
all  of  the  afternoon  to  get  through.  About  half  of  our 
teams  got  through,'  the  rest  we  had  to  double  up  to  get 
them  through.  The  fording  of  the  river  was  not  bad,  a 
good  bottom,  but  deep  water ;  many  things  in  our  wagons 
got  wet.  Just  this  side  the  river  was  a  hill, 'we  stopped 
on  this  ascension  to  let  the  water  drop  out,  which  it  did 
to  some  extent.  We  have  forded  but  one  river  since, 
crossed  three  bridges  and  one  creek.  The  creek  not  four 


NORTH  PLATTE  RIVER.  225 

rods  across,  was  the  worst  of  all,  more  mud  than  water. 
All  of  this  you  will  have  to  encounter.  Stranger,  you  do 
not  know  what  you  have  to  pass  through  before  reaching 
Laramie ;  }TOU  should  have  some  one  with  you  at  those 
places.  Your  next  three  days  will  be  good.  On  leaving 
here  you  will  follow  the  river  to  the  bridge,  and  cross  on 
a  good,  substantial  bridge,  built  by  the  Government. 
After  crossing,  and  going  a  short  distance  you  will  come 
to  the  store,  where  you  can  buy  most  anything  }'ou  wish — 
grain,  flour,  bacon,  pork,  sugar,  tea,  coffee  and  a  large 
variety  of  canned  meats.  It  is  a  great  accommodation 
store.  While  in  Laramie  this  store  was  made  known  to 
us,"  said  the  captain.  "When  I  was  in  Green  River  city, 
I  was  told  that  I  could  not  get  anything  that  I  should 
need  until  getting  to  Laramie.  They  told  me  a  big  lie, 
you  see.  When  you  get  there,  tell  the  grain  dealer  that 
you  met  the  man  with  the  horse,  cow  and  dog,  and  he 
sends  his  compliments,  and  says  he  could  have  got  all  the 
grain  he  wanted  at  the  bridge  over  the  Platte  River,  near 
Warm  Springs."  "It  is  about  time  to  retire.  We  place 
a  watchman  over  the  camp  at  nights  to  look  around  while 
we  are  sleeping ;  should  anything  happen,  it  would  be 
made  known  to  us  and  we  should  be  prepared  for  any 
emergency,"  said  the  captain. 

On  the  morning  of  June  2nd,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Platte  River  I  broke  camp,  journeying  on  and  following 
the  river  to  a  bridge,  recently  built  by  the  Government, 
which  I  crossed.  After  travelling  but  a  short  distance  I 
came  to  the  store,  before  spoken  about.  This  place  is 
known  as  Hot  Springs,  and  is  about  one  hundred  and 
thirty  miles  from  Laramie.  I  travelled  along  the  river 
until  I  came  to  some  grass  and  stopped,"  it  was  difficult  to 
get  the  cattle  past,  if  I  had  desired ;  so  I  unharnessed 
the  horse  and  gave  the  cattle  a  good  chance  to  eat  their 
fill,  not  knowing  where  the  next  would  be  found.  We 


226  HOT  SPRINGS. 


stayed  just  one  hour  and  then  went  on,  coming  back  to 
the  old  trail.  This  morning,  when  leaving  camp,  instead 
of  fording  the  river,  I  chose  to  go  over  the  bridge,  as  the 
river  was  very  high.  It  is  a  good  ford,  but  at  this  time 
of  the  3'ear  the  water  is  deep  and  strong.  Many  in  cross 
ing,  have  been  borne  down  by  its  force,  so  the  Govern 
ment  has  erected  this  bridge.  As  you  make  the  river 
from  the  East  or  West  the  trail  is  good.  Although  from 
the  East  you  have  to  descend  a  bluff,  but  not  from  the 
West.  About  one  mile  from  the  river  I  came  to  a 
junction  of  four  roads.  In  my  rear  is  the  river  ;  to  my 
left  is  Fort  Steal  and  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad,  about 
twenty  miles  ;  to  my  right  is  the  bridge  ;  to  my  left  is  the 
road  to  Laramie,  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles  away,  more 
or  less.  It  was  four  o'clock  and  moving  in  the  right 
direction,  hoping  to  make  Laramie  in  five  days, 'the  road 
is  good  and  all  of  us  cheerful.  About  six  o'clock,  ahead 
of  us  I  saw  smoke  ;  soon  after  we  came  up  to  three  ugly- 
looking  men  who  were  putting  up  a  tent ;  the}'  had  a 
wagon  and  three  bulls.  I  passed  the  compliments  of  the 
da}T  with  them  in  a  rough  manner,  asking  some  questions. 
I  thought  it  best  to  go  on  as  I  did  not  like  their  move 
ments,  but  I  asked,  "How  far  was  it  to  water?"  "Three 
miles  to  the  creek,"  w^s  .answered.  "How  large  a 
creek?"  I  asked.  "A  small  one,  but  water  enough  for 
your  cattle,"  was  answered.  "Where  are  you  from?" 
"I  am  from  Hot  Springs."  "Where  in  h — 1  is  Hot 
Springs?"  was  asked.  "About  fifteen  miles  from  here, 
near  Platte  River."  It  is  about  three  miles  to  the  creek, 
so  I  said,  "Come,  Fanny,  we  must  reach  the  creek," 
which  in  due  time  we  did.  Giving  my  cattle  a  good  drin^, 
I  went  on,  not  daring  to  make  my  camp  there.  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  journey  on  as  long  as  I  could  as  my  road 
was  good.  After  a  little  while  I  saw  a  light  ahead, 
which  on  our  coming  near,  proved  to  be  a  camp.  In  ap 
proaching  the  camp  the  horse  gave  a  tremendous  neigh, 


THE  CREEK.  227 


startling  all  the  camp,  horses  as  well  as  men.  I  went 
right  into  the  camp  and  said,  "Don't  be  afraid^  I  am 
alone  and  will  not  harm  you  ;  I  have  come  from  the  West 
and  suppose  }'ou  seldom  meet  persons  from  that  direction. 
I  wish  to  camp  with  3'ou  to-night,  and  would  rather  do  so 
than  stop  with  those  I  met  two  hours  ago.  I  should  have 
kept  on  if  I  had  not  struck  your  camp,  until  I  was  far  out 
of  their  reach."  "Who  were  those  that  3Tou  dislike  so 
much?"  I  told  him  of  the  men  with  the  bulls,  whose 
looks  and  actions  I  did  not  like,  and  repeated  the  discus 
sion  I  had  with  them,  so  I  travelled  out  of  their  reach 
and  here  I  am.  I  asked  if  they  had  any  objections  to  my 
camping  with  them  over  night,  and  was  told  they  had  no 
objections.  I  le^d  my  cattle  into  the  camp  and  gave 
them  grain,  made  my  bed  and  laid  down,  saying  that  I 
was  very  weary  and  tired,  having  travelled  a  long  distance 
that  day.  "Stranger,  if  you  are  not  too  tired,  please  tell 
us  where  you  are  from  and  where  bound?"  "Strangers,  I 
have  come  from  California.  Three  hundred  and  three 
miles  north  of  San  Francisco,  from  there  following  the 
Central  Pacific  Railroad  through  the  States  of  California, 
Nevada,  Utah  to  Ogden,  Green  River  to  this  place." 
"Where  are  you  going,  stranger?"  "I  am  bound  East,  to 
Massachusetts,"  I  answered.  "Going  to  Massachusetts  ! 
How  far  have  you  come  with  that  cow,  stranger?"  "I 
have  led  her  all  that  distance,  about  eighteen  hundred 
miles.  Where  are  you  from ?"  I  asked.  "We  are  from 
Kansas  and  are  going  to  Oregon."  "I  have  met  many 
from  Kansas,  all  going  to  Oregon.  What  is  the  cause  of 
so  many  leaving  Kansas?"  "We  are  from  the  western 
part  of  Kansas.  The  hot  winds  kill  about  everything 
there  and  the  people  are  leaving,  going  West."  "How 
many  teams  have  you?"  "We  have  four,  also  four 
men,  four  women,  twelve  children  and  two  dogs,  all 
for  Oregon.  Stranger,  where  has  been  your  worst 
travelling  on  the  whole  route?"  "My  worst  travelling, 


THE  CREEK. 


and  also  the  most  dangerous,  was  in  California.  From 
Green  River  to  where  we  are,  has  been  most  disagreeable. 
All  alone,  as  I  am,  it  makes  one  think  of  home  too  much. 
I  am  continually  thinking  of  breaking  down,  or  anything 
serious  happening  to  me  ;  these  thoughts  trouble  me  con 
tinuously.  Since  leaving  Green  River  city,  there  have 
been  da}'s  that  I  have  seen  no  person  nor  passed  a  house. 
I  have  3'et  about  one  hundred  miles  to  travel,  before  I 
reach  Laramie  ;  how  many  houses  do  I  pass  in  making 
that  distance?"  I  asked.  "You  pass  one,  yes,  two  ;  both 
are  at  a  river  where  you  cross  on  a  bridge,  one  on  each 
side  to  take  the  toll.  These  are  all  until  }*ou  get  to  New 
Laramie,  where  there  is  a  post-office  and  a  store.  Now, 
friend,  stranger,  we  will  leave  you  until  morning  and  hope 
you  will  have  a  good  night's  rest ;  good  night."  "Good 
night,"  I  replied. 

On  the  morning  of  June  3rd  I  was  up  before  my  neigh 
bors,  making  ready  to  move  on.  I  had  fed  my  cattle  and 
was  greasing  my  carriage,  when  one  of  my  neighbors 
came  around  and  asked,  "How  often  do  you  grease  }Tour 
wagon?"  "I  grease  every  other  da}';  I  travel  about 
twenty-five  miles  a  da}',  making  about  fifty  miles  between 
each  greasing.  Can  I  make  some  coffee  by  your  fire  ?"  I 
asked.  "Oh,  yes  ;  you  can  make  your  breakfast  by  our 
fire."  Soon  all  in  the  camp  were  up  and  around.  I  went 
to  milk  the  cow  and  while  doing  so,  one  of  the  dogs  came 
too  near  the  cow  ;  she  made  a  plunge  at  the  dog  upsetting 
me  and  the  milk.  I  cared  but  little  for  the  milk,  but  the 
strangers  seemed  to  feel  bad  about  it.  The  poor  dog  had 
to  take  it  on  all  sides.  I  told  them  I  did  not  care  for  the 
milk,  but  felt  sorry  on  their  part.  I  finished  milking  and 
there  was  enough  for  the  coffee  of  the  whole  camp.  After 
breakfast,  on  leaving  the  camp  I  wished  the  company 
success  on  their  long  journey.  They  answered,  "Friend, 
stranger,  we  all  feel  anxious  for  you,  being  alone  ;  if  you 


THE  CREEK. 


were  in  company  with  some  one  it  would  seem  different, 
and  when  in  a  tight  place  would  have  some  one  to  help 
you.  Good-b3'e,  success  to  you,  stranger."  We  parted 
and  I  went  on.  It  was  a  pleasant  and  grand  morning  ;  to 
my  right  are  lofty  mountains,  covered  with  snow,  which 
appear  but  a  short  distance  awa}T,  but  are  many  miles. 
High  elevations  give  light  and  air,  and  the  eye  a  long 
range  of  vision.  About  nine  o'clock  I  met  a  long  train, 
but  made  no  stop,  merely  asking  where  they  were  from 
and  where  going?  "We  are  from  Kansas  and  going  to 
Washington  Territory.  Where  are  3*011  from  and  where 
going?"  was  answered.  "I  am  from  California,  going 
East,  to  Massachusetts,"  I  answered.  "You  are  from 
there,  and  have  you  brought  that  cow  from  there,  stran 
ger?"  "We  have  come  from  California  just  as  you  see 
us."  I  left  them  and  at  twelve  o'clock  met  another  train, 
who  were  at  dinner.  Having  my  feed  ready  for  the  cattle 
I  stopped  and  fed  them,  and  ate  my  own  dinner.  This 
company  was  also  from  Kansas,  bound  for  Oregon.  There 
were  ten  teams,  twenty-four  horses,  twelve  men,  sixteen 
women  and  thirty-eight  children,  sixty-six  persons  in  all. 
I  left  this  company  about  half-past  one  o'clock  ;  my  road 
was  not  good,  being  badly  cut  up  by  the  many  teams. 
About  three  o'clock  we  met  another  train  of  six  teams  ; 
they  were  also  from  Kansas,  bound  for  Oregon,  compris 
ing  eight  men,  eight  women  and  nineteen  children.  Only 
a  short  distance  further  I  came  to  another  train  of  four 
teams,  ten  horses,  four  men,  four  women  and  thirteen 
children,  from  the  same  State.  About  five  o'clock  I  met 
another  band  of  emigrants  of  nine  teams,  eleven  men,  ten 
women  and  twent3'-nine  children,  all  for  the  State  of 
Oregon.  I  asked  the  captain  of  the  train  the  "Cause  of 
so  many  leaving  Kansas?  It  looked  as  though  they  were 
abandoning  the  State.  I  have  met  a  good  many  teams 
to-day."  "I  will  tell  you  the  cause,  stranger.  Where 
we  come  from  we  have  hot  winds  that  cuts  corn  and  many 


230  THE  CREEK. 


other  things  ;  we  can't  stand  it,  and  it  is  very  unhealthy. 
It  is  not  so  in  other  sections  of  the  State.  We  made  up 
our  minds  to  leave  the  State  and  go  to  the  West  and  .see 
what  we  can. do  there."  "Strangers,  success  to  }'ou,"  I 
said  and  went  on,  About  half-past  six  o'clock  I  saw 
smoke  in  the  distance  and  journeyed  towards  it,  and 
came  to  a  small  creek  and  grass  and  gave  my  cattle 
water.  Here,  my  first  thoughts  were  to  go  into  camp, 
then  I  thought  I  would  go  to  where  I  saw  the  smoke. 
However,  there  being  excellent  water  and  grass  at  this 
creek,  I  concluded  to  camp  here,  so  we  left  the  trail  to 
the  right,  went  down  the  creek  a  short  distance  and 
pitched  my  camp,  and  turned  the  cattle  loose  so  that 
they  could  have  their  fill  of  grass.  I  concluded  to  build 
no  fire,  but  take  my  supper  cold.  After  supper  I  spread 
my  blankets,  laid  me  down  and  went  to  sleep.  I  did  not 
intend  to  sleep.  When  I  awoke  I  went  for  my  cattle  and 
found  the  cow  lying  down,  the  horse  I  could  not  find.  I 
called  for  the  horse  but  no  answer  could  I  get.  I  then 
called  the  cow,  while  I  was  near  that  I  might  have  her 
to  help  me  call  the  horse.  The  second  time  of  calling  the 
cow  the  horse  answered  me  and  while  taking  the  cow  to 
the  wagon  the  horse  came  into  camp  and  I  made  them  se 
cure  to  their  posts.  A  thought  now  came  into  my  head 
to  harness  the  horse  and  go  where  I  had  seen  the  smoke. 
It  was  not  yet  ten  o'clock.  I  went  on  and  came  to  the 
camp,  which  was  but  a  short  distance  from  the  road.  On 
approaching  I  saw  two  men  sitting  b}*  the  fire,  whom  I 
addressed,  sa}Ting  "Good  evening,  gentlemen.  About 
half-past  six  I  saw  the  smoke  from  your  camp  which  I  in 
tended  to  reach,  but  coming  to  a  creek  where  there  was 
good  grass  and  water,  I  stopped  to  let  my  cattle  have  a 
good  nibble,  so  I  remained  there  about  three  hours,  and 
now  I  have  come  on  here  to  see  if  I  could  remain  with 
you  the  rest  of  the  night?"  While  I  was  speaking  the 
foregoing,  the  whole  camp  came  around  me.  "Strangers, 


THE  CAMP.  231 


can  I  remain  here?  I  have  come  a  long  distance,  and  per 
haps  can  make  a  half  hour  of  some  interest  to  you." 
"Stranger,  make  yourself  at  home  with  us,"  was  an 
swered.  "I  have  said  that  I  have  come  a  long  way, 
which  is  true  ;  I  am  all  the  way  from  the  Pacific  Ocean, 
alone."  "You  say  that  you  are  from  California  ;  where 
is  your  home?"  "I  am,  and  my  home  is  in  Massa 
chusetts,  and  I  am  on  my  way  home."  "Do  you  think 
that  j'ou  will  be  able  to  get  that  cow  to  that  State,  stran 
ger?"  "I  do,'  she  has  already  travelled  eighteen  hundred 
miles.  You  can  see  in  what  condition  she  is;  she  speaks 
for  herself."  "She  is  a  fine  looking  cow.  When  did  you 
leave  California,  stranger?"  "The  first  day  of  June, 
1882."  "We  are  going  somewhere,  and  have  started  for 
Oregon,  but  may  change  our  direction.  We  have  heard 
much  about  California,  what  a  glorious  State  it  is  !  You 
have  had  an  opportunity  to  know  something  about  it, 
stranger?"  "Yes,  I  know  something  about  the  State. 
There  are  as  many  climates  in  the  State^  as  there  are 
counties  ;  some  parts  are  hot ;  some  warm  and  some  parts 
cold.  You  can  get  any  temperature  you  desire  ;  -but  that 
is  not  all.  California  gets  her  watering  done  in  Decem 
ber  and  January  ;  some  parts  in  November,  and  some 
parts  in  February.  Humboldt  county  I  know  more  about 
than  any  other  county.  That  county  gets  more  rain  lhan 
any  other  in  the  State,1  it  is  also  one  of  the  healthiest  in 
the  State.  West  of  the  coast-range  of  mountains  the 
temperature  is  the  most  even',  neither  too  hot  nor  too 
cold  ;  on  the  east  side  of  the  range  it  is  warm,  in  many 
places  very  warm.  What  I  dislike,  is  the  many  months 
without  rain.  Say,  the  last  rain  was  in  February  and 
there  will  be  no  more  until  December.  The  best  months 
are  February,  March  and  April ;  they  are  fine  months,  but 
in  May  it  begins  to  dry  up  ;  June  and  July  are  hot,  and 
August  is  very  dry.  By  the  latter  month  you  will  have 
to  start  your  sheep  for  the  mountains,  or  they  will  starve 


232  MEDICINE  BOW  MOUNTAIN. 

on  the  way.  A  person  from  the  East  going  to  California 
will  find  the  months  of  November,  December,  January 
and  February  much  different  from  the  East.  They  will 
forget  our  May's  and  Junes',  but  when  the  sun  gets  high 
and  the  winds  are  blowing  a  gale,  and  the  sands  are  drift 
ing  like  snow,  then,  and  not  till  then,  will  they  think  of 
home.  We  have  better  days  in  Massachusetts  than  they 
can  have  in  California." 

On  the  morning  of  the  4th  I  was  up  early,  getting 
ready  for  another  day's  travel,  and  soon  after  my  neigh 
bors  were  stirring.  Breakfast  was  made  and  disposed  of 
and  at  six  o'clock  I  am  ready  to  break  camp  and  move 
on.  On  leaving  I  said,  "Strangers,  I  leave  you  ;  suc 
cess  to  you."  "Thank  }Tou,'we  hope  you  will  get  along 
all  right,'  you  have  a  dangerous  road  before  you  ;  I  think 
you  will  accomplish  your  undertaking,  }'ou  look  just  the 
man  to  do  it.  We  would  like  to  hear  from  you,  good 
morning,  stranger."  I  replied,  "Good  morning,"  and 
went  on  my  way.  About  eight  o'clock  I  came  to  water ; 
it  looked  as  if  milk  had  been  turned  into  it.  I  tasted  and 
found  it  poor  water,  but  not  disagreeable,  and  gave  my 
cattle  a  half  pail  each.  Going  on  I  ascend  a  high  bluff 
and  soon  attain  the  summit  of  Medicine  Bow  Mountain. 
It  is  a  high  elevation,  thousands  of  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  sea.  Here  I  stopped  and  gave  my  cattle  grain, 
which  they  would  not  eat  on  account  of  their  great  thirst. 
In  descending,  on  my  right  is  a  high  ridge.  After  travel 
ling  about  a  half  mile  my  road  turns  sharp  to  the  right 
and  then  ascends  this  ridge.  You  descend  from  this  into 
a  valley  and  cross  a  small  creek,  turning  sharp  to  the 
left.  Travelling  this  valley  about  a  mile,  another  ridge 
has  to  be  ascended.  This  preceding  had  to  be  repeated 
until  seven  of  these  ridges  had  been  ascended  and  de 
scended,  and  came  to  a  large  creek.  If  this  creek  was  in 
the  East  it  would  be  called  a  river ;  in  the  West  it  is 


MEDICINE  BOW  MOUNTAIN.  233 

called  a  creek.  Being  in  the  habit  of  talking  to  my  cattle, 
I  think  they  understand  me,  I  said,  "Fanny,  we  have 
got  to  cross  this  creek,'  we  can't  go  around  it,  we  must 
go  down  into  it,  mud  or  no  mud."  I  got  on  the  wagon 
and  drove  down  into  the  mud  and  water,  about  three  feet 
deep,  the  wagon  was  full  of  water ;  we  went  on  about 
two  rods  when  my  horse  stepped  on  something  that  threw 
her  down,  completely  covering  her  in  the  water.  I 
leaped  from  the  wagon  into  the  mud  and  water,  caught 
her  by  the  head,  and  raised  it  out  of  the  water  that  she 
might  breathe.  I  was  in  full  three  feet  of  mud  and  water. 
"Come,  Fanny,  we  must  get  out  of  this,"  I  said,  and  at  the 
moment  she  made  a  great  exertion,  and  landed  on  her 
feet.  She  was  frightened,  she  trembled  and  quivered.  I 
thought  she  would  die  right  there  where  she  was.  I 
stood  beside  her,  petting  and  talking  to  her,  and  soon  I 
saw  she  was  coming  all  right  again.  We  had  about 
twenty  feet  more  to  cross  before  we  reached  the  opposite 
bank.  I  spoke  to  her,  saying,  "Fanny,  try  it  again." 
She  pulled  with  a  tremendous  power,  a  little  too  much,  as 
she  tore  the  tugs  in  two,  and  landed  herself  on  the  bank  ; 
leaving  the  carriage,  cow,  dog  and  everything  else  in  the 
creek.  This  is  not  the  first  time  she  has  done  this  thing. 
On  crossing  the  Humboldt  river,  there  she  left  the  wagon, 
cow,  and  all  in  the  creek.  Since  that  time  I  have  carried 
two  ropes  about  thirty-five  feet  long.  I  take  these  ropes 
and  make  them  fast  to  the  front  axles,  carry  the  other 
ends  on  hard  ground  where  the  horse  can  stand,  make 
them  fast  to  the  harness  ;  this  being  done  the  horse  pulls 
the  wagon  out  of  the  creek  right  sharpty.  Well,  I  am 
out  of  the  water,  but  how  do  I  look  ?  Wet  and  muddy — 
more  mud  than  water.  I  carry  two  pails  for  watering  my 
cattle,'  these  I  take,  plunge  into  the  mud  and  fill  the  pails 
with  water,  come  out  on  dry  land  and  went  gathering  sage 
brush  for  a  fire.  Having  made  a  fire,  I  took  off  my  boots, 
stockings,  pants  and  drawers,  rinsing  and  wringing  them 


234  MEDICINE  BOW  MOUNTAIN. 

as  diy  as  possible,  re-placing  them  and  building  more  fire 
until  I  had  made  myself  comfortable.  I  repaired  my  har 
ness  by  the  use  of  ropes  and  went  on  until  coming  where 
I  c^uld  gather  more  sage  brush  to  make  a  fire  and  there  I 
stopped  for  the  night.  I  did  not  get  much  rest,  as  I 
was  both  wet  and  cold  •  Could  I  have  had  what  fuel  I 
ought  to  have,  then  I  should  have  been  warm.  I  then 
said  the  first  opportunity  I  have  I  will  procure  some  of 
that  fuel,  so  that  when  I  get  into  another  creek  I  should  be 
prepared  for  the  worst  emergency.  I  have  been  in  many 
tight  places  and  every  time  came  out  all  rtght. 

On  the  morning  of  the  5th  I  was  up  as  usual,  making 
ready  for  the  day's  duty,  but  not  feeling  so  well  as  com 
mon.  Yesterday,  I  shall  remember  as  long  as  time  lasts 
with  me.  It  was  half-past  five  o'clock  as  I  resumed  my 
journey  and  a  remarkably  fine  morning.  About  half-past 
seven  we  met  a  train  of  nine  teams  and  stopped  to  ask 
and  answer  questions.  My  questions  are  so  common  ; 
how  far  to  water,  are  there  rivers  to  ford,  etc?  I  dread 
the  rivers  and  creeks,  they  are  a  terror  to  me.  "Are  there 
any  rivers  to  ford?"  I  asked.  "Yes,  one  about  ten  miles 
from  here  ;  you  can  cross  over  a  bridge  or  ford  it.  We 
crossed  on  the  bridge.  The  next  is  the  Medicine  Bow 
river,  which  you  will  have  to  ford  ;  it  has  a  hard  bottom  ; 
we  have  only  forded  two  rivers  since  leaving  Laramie. 
How  is  it  where  you  come  from  ?"  In  answer,  I  related 
my  experience  of  yesterda3r,  also  on  crossing  the  Humboldt 
river,  early  in  my  journey.  After  which  I  went  on,  coin 
ing  to  a  river,  I  followed  it  to  a  house,  just  beyond  which 
was  the  bridge.  On  passing  the  house  I  did  not  see  a 
person  about,  so  we  made  for  the  bridge  and  passed  over, 
and  after  journeying  a  short  distance  came  to  another 
house,  where  there  were  two  roads  ;  I  did  not  know  which 
of  the  two  I  should  take,  so  I  went  to  the  house  to  make 
inquiries  and  a  lady  came  to  the  door,  of  whom  I  asked> 


MEDICINE  BOW  RIVER.  235 

''Which  of  the  two  roads  is  for  Laramie?"  "The  left 
road  is  the  best  to  ford  the  river,"  she  answered.  "What 
river?"  I  asked,  "The  Medecine  Bow  river,"  she  an 
swered.  I  was  about  to  leave  her  when  she  asked,  "Did 
}'ou  pay  toll  on  the  other  side  of  the  bridge?"  "No,  I 
did  not ;  is  this  a  toll  bridge?"  I  asked.  "It  is,  you  may 
pay  me,"  she  said.  "How  much  is  the  toll?'  -'Twenty- 
five  cents,"  she  answered.  "Twent3r-five  cents  for  a  one 
horse  team  !  That  is  as  much  as  you  charge  for  a  two  or 
a  four  horse  team,"  I  remarked.  "Well,  I  don't  remem 
ber  ever  seeing  a  one  horse  team  before,"  and  turning  her 
conversation  to  some  one  in  the  house  said,  "How  much 
shall  I  ask  this  man,  with  a  horse  and  cow?"  At  this  a 
man  came  to  the  door  and  asked,  "Where  is  your  horse, 
team  and  cow?"  going  up  to  my  team  and  looking  all 
around  he  said,  "Where  have  you  come  from  with  that 
outfit?"  "My  dear  sir,  if  you  will  not  ask  too  many 
questions  I  will  answer  the  first.  I  have  come  from  Cali 
fornia,  just  as  you  see  me."  "Oh,  h — 1 !  don't  talk  that 
stuff  into  me,'  you  are  a  fraud.  From  California  with  that 
horse  and  cow ;  now  tell  me  the  truth,  where  are  you 
from?"  "Before  I  answer  your  question,  allow  me  to  ask, 
where  is  your  native  State  ?  I  think  you  are  an  Eastern 
man  by  your  talk."  "I  was  born  in  the  State  of  New 
York  ;  I  left  the  State  in  1861 ,  at  the  time  of  the  war.  I 
was  not  going  to  help  free  them  d d  niggers,"  he  an 
swered.  "I  don't  know  that  I  can  convince  you,  but, 
sir,  if  you  are  from  New  York  and  have  lived  there  many 
years,  you  know  whether  I  am  a  Yankee  or  not.  Were 
you  ever  in  the  State  of  Massachusetts?"  "Yes,  I  have 
been  in  Massachusetts  ;  are  you  from  that  State?"  he  an 
swered.  "I  am,  and  now  on  my  way  to  Massachusetts ; 
when  there  I  am  at  home.  I  left  Massachusetts  in  April, 
1880,  for  California,  arriving  there  in  May,  I  left  Califor 
nia  June  the  first,  1882,  for  the  East.  My  stay  in  Cali 
fornia  was  two  years  or  more.  I  arrived  in  Ogden,  Sep- 


236  MEDICINE  BOW  RIVER. 

tember  23rd,  and  left  there  on  the  14th  of  May  last,  and 
have  travelled  here  since.  What  I  have  said  is  the  truth 
and  nothing  but  the  truth.  This  is  all  I  can  say,1 1  leave 
the  rest  for  your  consideration  ;  how  much  for  crossing 
the  bridge?"  I  asked.  "Stranger,  go  in  the  house  with 
me,"  he  said.  "I  have  already  made  a  longer  stop  than 
I  intended.  I  am  anxious  to  reach  Laramie  ;  when  there 
my  travelling  will  be  more  pleasant.  I  shall  have  an  op 
portunity  to  see  some  civilization  ;  I  have  not  seen  much 
since  leaving  Ogden."  I  went  with  him  to  the  house  and 
the  man  said  to  the  woman,  "I  am  satisfied  that  this  man 
has  come  from  California  ;  that  he  is  not  a  fraud.  He 
tells  a  big  story,  but  it  is  bigger  to  perform  it.  If  I  were 
in  the  woman's  place  I  would  not  charge  you  a  cent. 
Now,  stranger,  take  a  little  whisky  with  me."  Handing 
rne  the  whisky  he  said,  "Here's  luck  and  success  to  }~ou 
on  your  long  journey."  "Thank  you,  when  you  meet 
another  man  from  California  like  unto  me,  cb-thou  like 
wise.  Madam,  how  much  shall  I  pa}T  you  for  crossing  the 
bridge?"  "Nothing,  sir  ;  take  the  left  road  as  that  leads 
you  to  the  best  ford  ;  be  careful  in  going  down  the  bank 
into  the  river,'  when  you  get  into  the  water  you  are  all 
right;  good-bye,  stranger."  I  went  on;  it  was  a  fine 
morning,  a  good  road  and  everything  appeared  fine. 
About  eleven  o'clock  I  came  in  sight  of  the  river,  and  as 
I  approached  I  met  a  train  of  teams  ;  as  they  came  up  to 
me  we  all  stopped.  I  said,  "Good  morning,  strangers  ; 
how  far  to  the  river?"  "Only  a  short  distance."  "What 
luck  in  crossing?"  I  asked.  "Very  good  ;  getting  up  the 
bank  is  bad,  as  it  is  steep  and  muddy,  and  has  been  cut 
up  by  the  many  teams  in  crossing,  but  the  river  has  a 
good,  hard  bottom,"  was  answered.  "Where  are  you 
from?"  I  asked.  "We  are  from  Kansas;  we  have 
started  for  Oregon,  but  may  go  to  Washington  Territory. 
If  we  like  Oregon,  we  shall  settle  there,  but  can't  tell  till 
we  get  there.  Where  are  you  from  ?"  said  the  strangers. 


MEDICINE  BOW  RIVER.  237 

"I  am  from  California,"  I  answered.  "From  California  ! 
You  don't  say  ;  what  with  that  cow?"  "Yes,  sir  ;  from 
California."  By  this  time  the  whole  camp,  men,  women 
and  children,  were  around  me,  and  were  confounded. 
One  of  them  asked,  "What  part  of  California  are  you 
from?"  "The  northern  part;  Humboldt  county,  three 
hundred  miles  north  of  San  Francisco,"  I  answered. 
"You  are  from  California  and  brought  that  cow  all  the 
way?"  asked  the  strangers.  "Yes,  all  the  way,"  I  said. 
"Well,  well,  you  are  a  hero,  and  no  mistake  ;  have  you 
come  alone?"  "Yes,  all  alone,"  I  answered.  "How 
many  miles,  think  you?"  asked  the  strangers.  "About 
two  thousand,"  I  answered.  "Strangers,  I  would  like  to 
talk  two  hours  with  you,  but  I  have  not  the  time,  I  must 
reach  Laramie  this  week  ;  how  long  have  you  been  in  com 
ing  from  Laramie?"  I  asked.  "This  is  our  fifth  day,  it  is 
about  one  hundred  miles  to  Laramie  ;  how  many  miles  do 
you  travel  a  day?"  asked  the  strangers.  "I  travel  by  the 
hour,  two  and  a  half  miles  per  hour,  all  da}r.  I  left 
Green  River  city  the  26th  of  May,  and  have  made  that 
distance,  more  than  two  hundred  miles.  One  day  I  could 
not  travel  it  was  so  wet  and  slippery  ;  most  of  the  time  I 
have  travelled  on  good  time.  I  have  met  many  teams, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  I  could  scarcely  leave  them,  which 
has  caused  me  to  lose  much  time  ;  how  is  the  road  to 
Laramie?"  "Well,  most  of  the  way  it  is  good,  still  there 
are  many  bad  places.  The  worst  place  we  have  found 
was  our  first  day  from  Laramie.  About  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon,  we  passed  a  store  and  a  post-office  and  came 
to  a  flat  meadow  about  a  mile  long ;  it  was  mud,  nothing 
but  mud.  Our  wagons  were  heavily  ladened  with  grain 
and  other  materials,  so  that  they  sank  deep  in  the  mud. 
We  were  obliged  to  double  up  our  teams  to  get  them 
through.  On  coming  to  the  river  we  found  it  deep  and 
dared  not  cross  at  the  main  ford.  We  turned  short  to 
our  right,  crossing  the  river,  then  onwards  about  eight 


238  MEDICINE  BOW  RIVER. 

rods,  turning  sharp  to  the  left,  crossing  it  again  ;  onward 
a  little  further,  then  crossing  the  river  for  the  third  time. 
We  have  forded  but  one  river  since,  the  one  you  now  see." 
uAre  there  any  more?"  I  asked.  "Yes,  there  is  another, 
but  you  cross  it  over  a  bridge.  We  dared  not  ford  it,  it 
was  so  rocky,  we  would  rather  pay  the  toll  than  run  our 
chances."  "What  is  the  name  of  the  river?"  I  asked. 
"Its  name  is  Stony  creek,  and  it  is  stony  before  and  af 
ter  crossing ;  we  were  in  great  danger  of  breaking  our 
wagons.  How  is  it  on  ahead?"  asked  the  strangers. 
"All  kinds  of  travel,  I  have  had  many  miles  of  good 
roads.  Then  again,  it  would  be  rough  and  tough.  You 
move  like  an  army  ;  I  am  alone.  If  anything  happens  to 
you,  you  have  assistance  at  once,  while  I  alone  have  to 
get  out  of  a  difficulty  the  best  I  can,  if  I  get  out  at  all. 
Well,  strangers,  I  will  go  to  the  river  ;  good-bj'e."  We 
went  on  and  soon  came  to  the  river  and  on  my  arrival 
I  found  another  team  of  wagons  ready  to  cross  over.  I 
stopped,  fed  the  cattle  with  grain  and  watched  the  teams 
cross  the  ford  ;  I  sitting  on  the  bank.  A  team  came  down 
into  the  river  and  across  up  on  the  bank  all  right.  I 
watched  this  go  on  until  three  teams  had  been  got  over, 
I  noticed  that  the  bank  was  being  cut  up  very  badly  and 
would  be  more  before  the  twelve  others  were  got  over,  so 
as  the  captain  now  doubled  up  his  horses  I  said  to  him, 
"Will  you  allow  me  t>  cross;  I  see  it  is  going  to  take 
you  considerable  time  to  get  all  your  teams  across." 
"Yes,  sir  ;  certainly.  But,  stranger,  where  are  you  from 
with  that  outfit  and  where  are  you  going  to?"  "Captain, 
if  I  should  answer  that  question,  I  should  not  get  across 
the  river  to-day.  Captain,  I  am  from  California  and 
have  come  all  this  distance  just  as  I  am,  horse,  carriage, 
cow  and  dog."  "Stranger,  it  will  not  take  us  more  than 
an  hour  to  cross,  and  perhaps  not  so  long ;  I  want  to  ask 
you  a  few  questions.  They  may  be  worth  something  to 
us  ;  we  are  going  to  Oregon  and  I  think  you  are  the  man 


MEDICINE  BOW  RIVER.  239 

to  tell  us  how  to  get  there,"  said  the  captain.  ''Captain, 
I  can  tell  you  how  I  came  here,  I  can  do  that  much ;  as  I 
shall  stop  long  enough  to  get  some  hot  coffee  at  least." 
"Bo3rs,  gather  some  fuel  and  make  a  fire,  we  will  have 
some  hot  coffee  ;  be  smart  about  it,"  commanded  the 
captain.  Fires  were  soon  made,  coffee  was  cooking  and 
there  was  a  great  stir  around.  Teams  were  being  rapidly 
doubled  up  and  brought  over  the  river.  I  was  thinking 
what  I  could  do,  so  I  took  my  pail  and  went  to  the  cow 
and  milked,  taking  about  four  quarts  from  her.  The  cap 
tain  called  us  all  to  dinner  and  I  gave  the  milk  to  the 
lady,  whom  I  thought  to  be  the  captain's  wife,  saying, 
"Take  this  milk  and  do  what  you  like  with  it."  She  took 
a  bottle  holding  about  a  pint,  filling  it  and  laying  it  on 
one  side ;  then  asking  her  neighbors  if  they  would  like 
some  milk  for  their  coffee.  After  dinner  the  captain  called 
the  camp  around,  saying,  "Stranger,  from  California, 
now  please  tell  us  where  you  have  come  from  and  the  way 
you  came."  "Strangers,  I  am  from  California  ;  from  the 
northern  part,  Humboldt  county,  city  of  Eureka.  I  left 
there  the  first  of  June,  1882,  taking  the  overland  road  to 
San  Francisco,  distance,  three  hundred  and  three  miles. 
Followed  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad  to  Ogden  ;  arriving 
there  September  23rd.  On  my  arrival  I  did  not  intend  to 
stop  but  four  da}rs,  but  circumstances  were  such  that  I 
was  obliged  to  winter  there.  On  the  14th  of  May  last,  I 
left  Ogden  and  have  travelled  as  far  as  this."  "Stranger, 
if  JTOU  were  going  to  Oregon,  which  way  would  you  go?" 
asked  the  captain.  "I  would  go  from  here  to  Green 
River  city,  from  there  to  Evanston,  and  on  to  Ogden. 
From  Ogden  I  would  follow  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad 
to  Reno.  From  Reno  I  would  take  the  old  turnpike, 
called  Virginia  and  Marysville  Pike,  through  the  Sar 
dinian  Valley,  Webber's  Lake,  Jackson's  Ranche,  Gran 
ite  ville,  Nevada  city,  Grass  Valley  to  Marysville.  At 
Marysville  take  the  California  and  Oregon  turnpike 


240  MEDICINE  BOW  RIVER. 

direct  to  Oregon.  Captain,  I  have  given  you  the  main 
outline  and  I  know  that  the  trail  is  good.  After  reach 
ing  Ogden  3'ou  have  no  mountains  to  get  over  or  under. 
When  you  get  to  Wells,  you  are  sure  of  grass  ail  the  way 
to  Humboldt  Valley,  nearly  four  hundred  miles.  Captain, 
what  is  the  number  of  men,  women  and  children  in  your 
company?"  I  asked.  "Stranger,  this  camp  has  fifteen 
wagons,  thirty-six  horses,  eighteen  men,  twenty-two 
women,  fifty-two  children  and  eight  dogs, — one  hundred 
and  thirty-six  in  all,"  he  answered.  "Strangers  from 
Kansas,  I  must  leave  }~ou ;  I  wish  you  success  on  your 
long  journey  and  hope  you  will  succeed  to  your  satisfac 
tion  ;  good-b}~e  all."  "Stranger,  from  California,  we  sin 
cerely  hope  you  will  succeed  in  reaching  your  destination. 
In  three  or  four  days  more  you  will  reach  Laramie.  Bej'ond 
there  you  will  be  all  right ;  we  will  go  to  the  river  and  see 
3'ou  across."  I  drove  to  the  river  and  descended  the  bank, 
I  got  into  the  river,  but  came  near  being  upset,  so  much 
so  that  my  dog  was  precipitated  into  the  water,  but  I  did 
not  know  this  at  the  time.  I  succeeded  in  getting  across 
all  right.  As  soon  as  the  horse  gained  the  shore  she 
whinnied  ;  on  looking  around  I  saw  the  dog  going  down 
the  river.  I  took  the  horse  from  the  wagon,  got  upon  her 
back  and  rode  for  the  dog.  Before  I  had  gone  far  the 
dog  was  taken  out  of  the  water  by  a  stranger,  about 
twelve  rods  down  the  river,  where  there  was  a  bend,  if  he 
had  not  been  rescued  here  I  should  have  lost  him.  I  re 
turned  with  my  dog,  feeling  thankful ;  then  I  re-har 
nessed  my  horse,  put  her  in  the  wagon  and  got  ready  to 
go  on.  The  river  I  had  just  forded  was  about  six  rods 
across.  "Strangers  and  friends,  I  thank  you  for  }rour 
kindness,  I  shall  ever  remember  you  ;  should  I  be  permit 
ted  to  arrive  safely  at  home,  this  incident  I  may  make  a 
record  of  in  some  form  and  hope  you  may  in  some  way 
see  it.  Good-bye,  strangers."  "Three  cheers  for  the 
man  from  California,  bound  East  to  Massachusetts." 


MEDICINE  BOW  RIYER.  241 

They  were  given  with  a  will.  I  went  on  up  the  bluff;  for 
about  two  miles  it  was  rough  and  stony.  I  thought  surely 
I  should  break  my  wagon.  I  led  the  horse  around  the 
rocks  which  no  doubt  saved  my  carriage.  About  half- 
past  three  o'clock  I  noticed  that  there  was  to  be  a  change 
in  the  weather,  clouds  were  gathering  as  if  for  rain.  I 
crowded  along  as  fast  as  possible  with  a  rough  trail. 
From  the  East,  I  am  now  continuously  meeting  teams ; 
but  from  the  West  no  one  overtakes  me.  You  see  it  is 
all  one  way.  At  five  o'clock  I  had  not  yet  come  to  grass, 
or  water,  but  about  this  time  I  saw  a  train  of  four  teams 
coming.  I  asked,  "How  far  am  I  from  water?"  "Only 
about  two  miles."  I  continued  on  and  soon  came  to 
water  and  grass  also.  I  stopped  and  gave  my  cattle 
water,  then  went  on  a  short  distance  further  and  camped 
for  the  night.  I  turned  my  cattle  loose  that  they  might 
eat  what  little  grass  they  could  find,  it  was  not  much, 
however.  I  looked  around  for  fuel,  but  in  vain,  not 
enough  to  boil  water  for  my  coffee.  Having  some  cold  tea 
I  took  my  lunch  basket,  sat  down  on  my  blankets  and  ate 
supper  all  alone.  About  eight  o'clock  I  brought  in  my 
cattle  and  secured  them,  giving  them  their  evening's  meal 
of  grain,  then  made  up  my  bed  and  laid  down.  The 
clouds  were  thick  and  heavy,  looking  as  though  it  would 
soon  rain,  which  it  did  about  ten  o'clock.  I  got  up, 
rolled  up  my  blankets,  put  on  my  rubber  coat  and  stood 
up,  taking  the  rain  as  it  fell,  which  however,  was  of  short 
duration,  and  then  it  began  to  hail ;  this  I  could  stand 
better  than  the  rain,  but  it  began  to  blow  very  cold  with 
the  wind  increasing ;  the  hailstones  dwindled  away  into 
almost  snow.  Fanny  was  making  a  fine  fuss  about  it. 
The  ground  had  become  quite  white  with  the  hail,  the 
wind  was  blowing  quite  strong  and  getting  round  to  the 
East  and  the  storm  was  increasing,  and  at  eleven  o'clock 
there  had  fallen  four  inches  of  snow.  Fanny  was  com 
plaining  bitterly  and  she  made  the  snow  fly,  making  more 


242  THE  PLAINS. 


fuss  then  was  essential ;  the  cow  was  quietly  chewing  her 
cud  as  she  lay  down,  seeming  to  care  little  about  the 
storm.  I  noticed  that  the  storm  struck  the  horse  in  the 
face,  so  I  turned  the  wagon  about  half  round,  changing 
her  position ,  and  then  I  took  the  blanket  off  the  horse 
and  put  it  on  the  cow,  then  I  took  one  of  my  blankets 
and  a  buffalo  robe  and  put  them  on  the  horse,  which 
change  made  her  more  contented.  All  this  time  I  was 
getting  cold.  The  snow  had  continually  fallen  ;  by  mid 
night  five  inches  had  fallen.  Still  the  storm  increased. 
I  little  thought  I  should  be  snow  bound  in  June.  No, 
nothing  of  the  kind.  I  was  getting  very  cold,  especially 
my  hands  und  feet,  having  no  mittens  or  gloves.  I 
thought  of  one  thing,  and  that  was  my  kerosene.  I  got 
the  can,  cleared  away  the  snow  and  poured  some  on 
the  ground  and  set  it  on  fire.  It  made  a  big  blaze,  so 
big  it  scared  my  horse.  I  warmed  my  hands  by  the  blaze 
until  the  stiffness  came  out.  At  two  o'clock  the  snow 
was  six  inches  deep ;  it  looked  as  if  there  was  a  slight 
chance  for  a  sleigh-ride  in  June.  Well,  here  I  am  alone. 
Yes,  all  alone,  except  my  cattle.  Ah,  there  is  some  con 
solation  in  talking  to  them,  especially  on  the  Rocky 
Mountains  in  a  snow-storm.  I  am  getting  very  cold, 
especially  my  feet.  I  took  the  oil  can  again  and  poured 
more  oil  on  the  ground,  set  it  on  fire  and  warmed  me  the 
best  I  could,  my  feet  felt  as  if  they  were  freezing.  Another 
thought  came  to  my  mind,  that  was,  to  take  a  sack  which 
had  contained  grain  and  place  it  on  the  ground  where  I 
poured  the  oil,  which  I  did.  There  was  considerable 
warmth,  so  I  took  off  my  boots  and  standing  on  the  sack 
my  feet  soon  became  quite  warm.  This  was  quite  an  in 
vention  and  had  I  patented  it  I  might  have  been  a  rich 
man  by  this  time.  Well,  here  I  am,  not  quite  morning, 
eight  inches  of  snow  on  the  ground,  feet  warm  but  fingers 
cold  ;  a  little  more  oil  will  make  them  all  "hunkey-dorey." 
I  gave  the  ground  another  wetting  with  oil  and  fired  it  off. 


THE  PLAINS.  243 


The  horse  had  by  this  time  got  used  to  this  kind  of  firing 
and  did  not  upset  the  wagon  as  she  did  at  the  first.  This 
was  a  very  long  night,  one  to  be  long  remembered.  It 
is  getting  close  on  to  day-break  and  soon  light  will  be 
upon  us.  There  is  one  point,  or  pint,  I  had  forgotten. 
When  back  at  the  bridge,  where  I  could  Ifave  bought 
grain  or  anything  else,  I  got  a  pint  of  that  "anything 
else,"  but  which"  so  far  I  have  had  no  use  for,  a  full  pint, 
and  which  now  seems  to  be  the  proper  time  for  its  use,  so 
I  go  to  my  wagon  and  get  the  "something  else,"  and  took 
a  big  "smile,"  holding  it  up  so  as  to  know  what  I  was 
about.  Instead  of  putting  it  back  in  the  wagon  I  put  it 
m  my  pocket.  Soon  after  I  began  to  feel  warm  and 
cheerful.  I  could  run,  which  I  did  ;  I  could  talk  to  my 
cattle,  but  never  knew  what  they  thought  about  it,  nor 
did  I  care,  I  was  alone  on  the  Western  plains,  surrounded 
by  high  hills,  and  "something  else"  was  in  my  pocket.  I 
took  another  "smile"  and  looked  at  the  bottle  and  found 
that  I  had  drank  more  than  half  of  it,  so  I  put  it  away 
where  I  could  find  it  when  wanted,  or  where  no  one  could 
get  it ;  knowing  that  neither  Fanny  nor  Bessie  would  in 
terfere  with  it,  and  there  were  no  Indians  around  to  steal 
it,  being  so  cold  and  stormy  for  them  to  be  out.  Well,  it 
is  morning  ;  what  a  long  night  it  has  seemed  to  me,  and  a 
foot  of  snow  on  the  level  and  still  more  coming.  As  soon 
as  I  could  see  I  tried  to  find  the  trail,  but  could  not,  so 
deep  was  the  snow.  "Well,  Fanny,  what  have  you 
to  say  this  morning?  We  shall  have  to  remain  here  for 
a  while  ;  when  the  sun  comes  in  sight,  then  we  will  know 
what  direction  to  take.  "About  five  o'clock,  there  being  a 
faint  glimmer  of  light,  I  thought  sure  that  was  East. 
When  I  went  into  camp  my  wagon  was  standing  eastward 
and  when  I  made  the  change,  the  position  I  must  have  made 
was  to  westward ;  this  was  the  only  compass  I  had. 
Should  the  sun  come  out,  it  would  not  give  me  the  trail, 
but  the  point  of  compass.  About  six  o'clock  I  saw 


244  THE  PLAINS. 


smoke  to  my  rear.  "Fanny,  yonder  is  smoke,  do  you  see 
it ;  there  is  a  camp  !"  I  did  not  pass  it  last  night,  so  I 
thought  it  was  in  my  direction,  and  tried  once  more  to 
find  the  trail,  but  the  snow  was  too  deep. 

On  the  morning  of  the  6th  I  fed  my  cattle  with  grain 
and  took  "a  smile  of  something  else,"  .and  started  in  the 
direction  of  the  smoke,  which  I  found  proceeded  from  a 
camp  about  a  mile  distant.  When  about  mid-way  I  com 
menced  hallooing  with  all  my  might,  which  brought  out 
two  men  and  two  boys  from  a  tent.  As  soon  as  I  got 
near  them  I  bade  them  "good  morning.  We  are  having  a 
heavy  snow-storm."  "Yes,  I  do  not  know  what  we  will 
have  to  do,"  answered  the  stranger.  "I  have  a  horse, 
cow,  dog  and  a  carriage,  a  little  distance  from  here,  but  I 
can't  travel,  not  being  able  to  find  the  trail."  "How  far 
from  here?"  asked  the  strangers,  "Less  than  a  mile,  I 
think,"  I  answered.  "Stranger,  I  think  you  can  get 
down  to  our  camp.  Here  you  will  not  be  alone,  and  we 
may  have  to  stop  several  days  before  we  can  travel  fur 
ther.  We  will  assist  you."  With  this  assurance  I  fol 
lowed  my  trail  back,  and  on  my  returning  my  cattle  gave 
me  a  good  reception.  I  got  all  ready  and  went  back  to 
the  camp,  which  I  reached  all  right.  As  the  forenoon  ad 
vanced,  the  snow  began  to  disappear,  and  by  noon  the 
sun  was  out  in  all  its  glory,  promising  that  by  to-morrow 
we  should  be  able  to  travel.  Having  got  everything  in 
good  shape  in  the  camp  we  began  to  gather  sage  brush  for 
a  fire,  and  soon  had  a  good  dinner  in  preparation.  The 
campers  being  supplied  with  water,  I  furnished  the  milk 
for  the  tea  and  coffee.  I  did  not  get  much  milk  from  the 
cow,  the  wonder  was,  I  got  any.  The  strangers  said, 
"Where  in  God's  name  have  you  come  from,  with  that 
horse,  cow,  carriage  and  dog.  If  you  came  from  the  East 
we  would  not  ask,  but  coming  from  the  West  all  alone,  is 
what  we  want  to  know?"  "Well,  I  will  tell  you  a  long 


THE  PLAINS.  245 


story  after  dinner,  as  there  will  be  plenty  of  time  before 
we  can  travel."  Dinner  being  now  ready,  we  retired  to 
the  tent  where  the  table  was  spread.  After  dinner  many 
questions  were  asked  and  answered,  in  which  I  related 
my  travels.  About  four  o'clock,  two  men  on  horseback 
came  into  our  camp  from  the  East,  who  said  they  had 
been  travelling  all  day.  When  they  left  their  camp  in  the 
morning  their  was  no  snow.  After  journej'ing  about  six 
miles  they  came  to  snow,  and  continued  along  until  the 
snow  was  so  deep  they  could  not  see  the  trail  ?  About  two 
miles  from  here  they  saw  smoke  and  continued  until 
coming  to  this  camp.  "We  have  had  a  tough  storm. 
Strangers,  can  I  make  your  camp  with  my  outfit  to-mor 
row  morning,  if  I  travel  on  your  trail.  When  I  get  there, 
jndging  from  what  you  say,  I  shall  have  no  trouble  in 
travelling  East." 

On  the  morning  of  the  7th  I  was  around  early,  making 
ready  to  go  on.  It  is  a  very  cold  morning  for  early  June, 
but  remember  we  are  more  than  eight  thousand  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea.  On  leaving,  I  thanked  the  friends 
for  allowing  me  to  share  their  quarters,  as  otherwise,  1 
should  have  had  a  cold  time  of  it.  I  moved  on  and  fol 
lowed  the  trail  of  the  men  of  the  previous  day  and  soon 
reached  their  camp.  I  found  it  was  a  large  company  and 
I  was  soon  surrounded  by  the  campers.  "Well,  stranger, 
you  have  got  along  so  far,"  said  one.  "Yes,  sir;  but 
you  did  not  make  me  a  very  good  trail,  but  I  came 
through  all  right."  "There  is  more  snow  west  than  east 
of  us,  you  think?"  I  asked.  "Oh,  yes  ;  you  will  not  find 
snow  six  miles  from  here."  I  left  them,  and  soon  after  I 
came  to  water,  of  which  my  cattle  drank  as  if  they  liked 
it,  although  but  surface  water.  Travelling  on,  the  snow 
gradually  dwindles  away,  and  I  pass  through  any  quantity 
of  surface  water.  On  this  day  I  am  obliged  to  ride  as  my 
shoes  are  not  water-proof.  About  noon  I  pass  Stony 


246  STONY  CREEK. 


creek,  crossing  it  on  a  bridge.  The  ford  is  a  rough,  stony 
one,  so  I  preferred  to  pay  twenty-five  cents,  rather  than 
run  the  risk  of  breaking  my  wagon.  Just  above  the 
bridge,  there  is  a  saw-mill,  the  owner  of  which  is  also  the 
proprietor  of  the  bridge.  As  I  stood  talking  with  him  a 
large  train  came  in  sight.  "About  how  much  toll  d jes 
this  bridge  bring  you  in  a  year?"  I  asked.  "About  one 
hundred  dollars,"  he  answered.  "I  have  passed  many 
teams  since  leaving  Green  River  city.  Emigration  must 
be  great  this  season.  Are  there  any  that  attempt  to  ford 
the  creek?"  I  asked.  "No,  not  man}7.  Should  they 
break  down,  it  would  prove  a  dear  toll  for  them,"  he  an 
swered.  While  we  were  talking,  the  train  came  up  and 
the  captain  said,  "Is  this  a  toll-bridge?"  "Yes,  sir;  it 
is,  stranger."  "How  much  toll  for  a  team?"  "Twenty- 
five  cents."  "Can't  this  river  be  forded,  or  must  we  pa}* 
toll?"  asked  the  captain.  "There  is  the  ford ;  you  are 
not  compelled  to  cross  the  bridge,  stranger."  "What  is 
the  matter  with  the  ford?"  asked  the  captain.  "This  is 
a  rocky  creek,  the  name  is  an  old  one.  Before  this  bridge 
was  made,  all  teams  had  to  ford  the  creek,  and  many 
wagons  were  broken  in  crossing,  which  caused  delay,  ex 
pense  and  much  anxiety.  I  built  the  bridge  and  it  pays 
me  something,  but  it  pays  those  crossing  more  than  me, 
every  time,"  he  answered.  "We  have  twenty-two  wagons 
and  fort}T -eight  horses  ;  will  you  make  any  reduction  on 
that  number?"  asked  the  captain.  "No,  sir  ;  no  differ 
ence.  Your  extra  horses  I  will  not  charge  you  for." 
"Captain,  how  many  persons  have  you  in  your  company?" 
I  asked.  "There  are  twenty-eight  men,  twenty-six 
women  and  seventy-nine  children ;  one  hundred  and 
thirty-three  all  told,"  he  answered.  "How  is  the  travel 
ling  to  Laramie  ?"  I  asked.  'Very  good;  there  is  but 
one  bad  place,  and  that  is  before  you  reach  the  river. 
This  side  of  the  river  is  good."  "How  many  days  from 
Laramie  to  this  place?"  I  asked.  "Three  and  a  half. 


STONY   CREEK.  24:7 


It  took  us  a  half  day  to  cross  the  river,  and  a  mile  beyond 
we  had  to  double  up  our  horses  to  get  to  the  river ;  such 
deep  mud,  no  teams  ever  passed  through/'  I  left  them 
and  went  on,  the  water  in  many  places  being  quite  deep, 
and  in  other  places  the  mud  much  deeper,  and  the  train  of 
teams  has  made  the  trail  much  worse.  Late  in  the  day  I 
pitched  my  camp. 

On  the  morning  of  the  8th  I  resumed  my  journey  early, 
and  without  breakfast,  and  went  on  until  I  came  to  an 
other  camp  of  emigrants,  who  were  eating  their  breakfast. 
I  bade  them  good  morning.  "Good  morning,  stranger," 
answered  one.  "Where  have  }TOU  come  from,  so  early?" 
"I  have  come  from  the  West,  and  thought  I  would  call 
and  take  a  dish  of  coffee  with  you  this  morning,"  I  an 
swered.  "Come  along,  stranger,  we  have  plenty."  "But, 
hold  on.  I  have  a  cow  which  has  not  been  milked  this 
morning,  I  will  milk  her,"  I  said.  I  did  so  and  gave  the 
milk  to  a  lady,  took  my  lunch  basket  and  sat  down  at  the 
table  without  ceremony,  handing  my  cup  to  her  for  coffee  ; 
she  filled  it  full  and  bade  me  help  myself  to  milk  which  I 
did.  "Stranger,  where  are  }rou  from?"  "I  am  from 
California,"  I  answered.  "From  California !  do  you 
mean  that,  stranger;  with  that  outfit?"  "Yes,  sir,"  I 
answered.  "Stranger,  take  another  dish  of  coffee  and 
help  yourself  to  milk?"  "Thank  you,  don't  be  too  lavish 
with  the  milk  ;  keep  that  yourself.  I  have  milk  every  day, 
Sunday's  not  excepted,"  I  answered.  "Stranger,  I  wish 
you  had  reached  this  camp  last  night."  "I  wish  so  too, 
but  it  was  not  ordained.  Excuse  me,  I  must  go  on  ;  I  am 
anxious  to  see  the  promised  land.  Good  morning  all, 
and  thank  you."  It  is  a  fine,  cheerful  morning  and  I  have 
a  good  trail.  It  was  six  o'clock  when  I  left  this  company 
and  at  seven  passed  a  train  of  six  teams,  and  at  half-past 
eight  o'clock  another  of  four  teams,  but  did  not  stop  as  I 
was  anxious  to  reach  Laramie  the  next  day.  I  knew  I 


248  THE  PLAINS. 


could  not  do  so  and  stop  on  meeting  each  train,  and  an 
swer  all  questions  that  would  be  asked.  About  eleven 
we  came  to  a  creek,  there  was  grass  as  well  as  water ;  I 
never  pass  grass,  so  I  stop,  giving  my  cattle  water  and  a 
biting  at  the  grass.  I  stopped  just  one  hour  and  then 
went  on  again  ;  my  road  continuing  good.  About  one 
o'clock  I  came  to  another  camp  where  I  was  obliged  to 
stop,  and  could  not  avoid  it  as  a  man  called  out,  "Hello, 
stranger,  what  part  of  h — 1  are  }*ou  from?"  "Well,  sir  ; 
you  do  not  know  much  about  h — 1  yet,  but  will  before  you 
get  to  Green  River  cit}' ;  I  am  almost  in  the  promised 
land,  already  in  sight  of  it,  and  to-morrow  I  propose  to 
enter  it,"  1  answered.  "Stranger,  to-morrow  you  will  be 
in  h — 1,  take  my  word  for  it.  You  will  almost  get  there  to 
day,  but  to-morrow  you  will  surety  find  it ;  we  have  come 
through  it,  man."  "Sir,  I  must  have  taken  the  wrong 
trail,  judging  by  what  }TOU  say.  Could  you  not  have  pas 
sed  around  ?  I  will  go  and  look  at  it  for  myself,  and  see 
if  I  can't  avoid  it."  I  went  on  and  thought  of  Watts' 
old  hymn  on  this  occasion;  "Broad  is  the  road  that 
leads  to  hell,  and  thousands  travel  on  it."  Now,  I  am 
travelling  a  narrow  road  and  think  that  the  man  is  an  im- 
poster,  there  is  no  h — 1  on  this  trail,  it  is  too  narrow.  I 
went  on  as  fast  as  I  could  crowd  along  until  it  was  time 
to  stop  for  the  night,  but  could  see  no  water  or  grass  and 
have  not  done  so  since  eleven  o'clock.  I  made  the  cattle 
secure  to  their  posts,  gave  them  their  grain,  but  they  be 
ing  so  thirsty  they  did  not  eat  it.  I  made  up  my  bed,  laid 
down  and  was  quickly  asleep. 

On  the  morning  of  the  9th  I  arose  early,  being  anxious 
to  know  what  was  ahead.  After  travelling  about  five 
miles  I  came  to  a  camp.  "Good  morning,  strangers,"  I 
said.  "Good  morning,  sir;  where  have  you  come  from 
this  morning  ?"  was  asked.  "About  two  miles  back.  I 
went  into  camp  late  last  night,  hoping  to  come  to  water, 


THE  PLAINS.  249 


but  did  not.  How  far  am  I  from  water?"  I  asked. 
"About  three  miles."  "My  cattle  have  had  none  since 
eleven  o'clock  yesterday.  Last  night  they  would  not  eat 
their  grain  being  so  thirsty."  "Stranger,  I  have  water 
on  my  wagon,  I  keep  a  small  barrel  full  all  the  time,  you 
may  give  your  cattle  some  of  it."  "Thank  3^011,  I  would 
like  too,"  I  answered.  I  took  my  pail  and  filled  it  four  times, 
giving  two  to  each,  which  they  drank  but  were  not  satis 
fied.  I  said  to  the  man,  "Shall  I  give  them  more?" 
"Yes,  I  can  fill  the  barrel  where  3*ou  got  your  last,  no 
doubt."  I  gave  them  two  pails  more,  which  seemed  to 
satisfy  them.  I  then  gave  them  their  groin  and  they  ate 
itwitha  will.  "Strangers,  I  left  camp  early  this  morning, 
as  you  are  aware  ;  I  have  had  no  breakfast,  but  I  have 
plenty  to  eat,  sugar,  tea,  coffee,  bread  and  canned  meats, 
and  one  thing  no  doubt,  you  have  not  got,  that  is,  milk 
from  that  cow.  Now,  strangers,  I  will  milk  the  cow 
and  we  will  have  it  in  our  coffee  ;  how  will  that  suit  ?"  I 
asked.  "First,  best,  stranger;  wife  make  your  coffee 
strong,  we  are  going  to  have  milk  once  more.  This 
stranger  is  going  to  milk  his  cow,  and  we  will  have  a  good 
dish  of  coffee."  I  milked  the  cow,  getting  about  three 
and  a  half  quarts.  I  gave  it  to  the  lady,  telling  her  to  do 
with  it  as  she  pleased.  I  then  went  and  gave  my  cattle 
more  grain  and  returned  to  breakfast,  which  consisted  of 
boiled  ham,  Jiot  potatoes,  biscuits  and  coffee,  with  sugar 
and  milk  ;  a  good  breakfast.  "Strangers,  I  have  come 
from  California,  and  am  going  to  Massachusetts."  "Have 
you  come  from  California  with  that  outfit,  just  as  it  is?" 
"Yes,  sir,"  I  answered.  My  God  !  wife,  just  think  of  it ; 
about  how  many  miles,  stranger."  "Two  thousand." 
"If  you  should  be  the  man  to  make  the  journey,  about 
how  many  miles  will  you  have  travelled,  stranger?" 
"More  than  four  thousand,"  I  answered.  "You  never 
can  accomplish  that  journey !"  "I  have  already  made 
nearly  half  of  it ;  and  think  of  the  country  I  have  passed 


250  THE  CREEK. 


through.  When  I  get  to  Laramie,  I  am  almost  home,  that 
is,  I  am  among  civilization  and  shall  have  good  roads, 
which  will  be  more  cheerful  and  delightful."  "Yes,  that 
is  true,  but  can  the  cow  do  that  much,  stranger?"  "Thus 
far  she  has,  and  held  her  own  better  than  the  horse.  But, 
strangers,  I  must  leave  you  and  go  on.  I  am  told  that  I 
shall  have  a  bad  place  to  go  through  at  the  river,  how  is 
that?"  "Well,  stranger,  you  will  find  a  bad  place  after 
crossing  the  river ;  you  will  find  deep  mud ;  yet,  your 
carriage  being  light,  you  will  go  through  it  better  than  we, 
with  our  heavy  wagons.  For  nearly  a  mile  our  horses 
were  in  mud  from  their  hoofs  to  their  bellies."  We  bade 
each  other  good-bye  and  success  on  our  several  journeys. 
I  left  them  and  about  half-past  seven  o'clock  came  to  the 
creek.  I  allowed  my  cattle  to  drink  and  then  went  on 
again.  Just  as  I  was  leaving  I  saw  a  long  train  com 
ing  towards  me.  I  started  up  the  bluff  and  turned  into 
the  sage  brush,  giving  them  the  trail.  There  were  two 
men  on  horseback  who  were  in  advance,  and  as  they  came 
up  I  bade  them  good  morning.  "You  have  a  long  train, 
how  many  teams  have  you?"  I  asked.  "Twenty-three 
wagons,  fort3'-seven  horses  in  all,"  was  answered.  "How 
far  is  it  to  the  river?"  I  asked.  "About  two  miles." 
"I  learn  it  is  a  bad  place  to  get  over?"  I  said.  "Stran 
ger,  I  never  saw  the  like  in  my  life  ;  horses  in  mud  up  to 
their  bellies,  and  a  long  stretch  at  that."  *'Is  there  no 
way  of  getting  round  it,  without  going  through  it?"  I 
asked.  "No,  not  without  taking  down  the  fences  which 
are  on  either  side."  I  shall  soon  know  nil  about  it,  and 
soon  came  to  the  river.  At  one  time  there  was  a  bridge 
over  this  river,  but  now  there  was  none.  The  water  here  is 
deep  and  can  not  be  forded.  You  have  to  ford  the  river 
three  times,  as  it  winds  in  and  out.  I  drove  down  into 
the  river,  went  across  and  came  out  all  right.  Instead  of 
turning  to  my  right,  I  drove  out  in  my  front  and  landed 
in  a  large  pasture,  for  the  pasturing  of  horses.  I  travel- 


LARAMIE.  251 


led  close  to  the  fence  for  about  a  mile  and  came  to  a  store, 
which  was  also  the  post-office.  I  drove  out  into  the  trail, 
stopped  and  went  into  the  store  and  explained  why  I  did 
so.  "In  coming  from  the  West,  I  would  have  done  the 
same,"  answered  the  postmaster.  I  am  out  of  the  wilder 
ness  and  have  just  entered  the  promised  land.  Here  I 
went  into  camp  for  the  night. 

I  was  up  before  daylight  on  the  morning  of  the  10th, 
turned  my  cattle  loose  among  the  grass  and  allowed  them 
to  eat  their  fill.  So  anxious  was  I  to  make  Laramie  that 
day,  that  as  daylight  came  I  commenced  my  journe3r, 
leaving  camp  about  four  o'clock ;  everything  around  me 
was  beautiful  and  grand.  On  my  right  are  lofty  moun 
tains,  painted  white  with  snow  ;  on  the  left,  as  far  as  the 
eye  can  see,  was  a  vast  plain,  covered  with  fine  grass.  O 
how  beautiful,  surely  this  is  the  promised  land.  We  move 
onward  as  fast  as  possible  ;  Fanny  understands  it,  no 
doubt.  Last  evening,  about  nine  o'clock,  I  heard  the 
whistle  of  an  engine,  and  spoke  to  my  horse,  "Fanny,  do 
you  hear  that?"  She  replied,  "Hah,  hah,  hah,"  that  is 
her  way  of  replying.  About  nine  o'clock  we  came  to 
water,  a  small  pond.  It  was  surface  water,  of  which  my 
cattle  drank  freely.  I  was  talking  to  my  horse,  telling 
her  that  we  soon  would  be  there,  when  I  heard  on  my  left 
the  whistle  of  an  engine,  the  horse  heard  it  also. 
"Fanny,"  I  said,  "we  are  almost  there."  We  entered  the 
city  of  Laramie  about  ten  o'clock,  Sunday,  June  10th, 
1883.  At  once  I  made  for  a  stable,  so  as  to  get  hay  for 
my  cattle  ;  saying  to  the  proprietor,  "I  have  just  arrived 
in  the  city,  having  crossed  the  plains  from  Ogden."  "Oh, 
indeed;  what  kind  of  times  have  you  had?"  he  asked. 
"Most  of  the  way,  good ;  others,  not  so  good ;  one  part 
was  very  rough ;  that  was  the  snow  storm,"  I  replied. 
"Have  you  had  a  snow-storm  on  the  plains?"  "Yes,  sir ; 
on  the  night  of  the  5th  and  6th,  snow  fell  to  the  depth  of 


252  LARAMIE. 


eight  to  twelve  inches.  On  the  morning  I  could  not  find 
the  trail  to  travel,  so  deep  was  the  snow.  Could  you  ac 
commodate  me  with  some  hay?"  "Yes,  sir ;  you.  shall 
have  all  the  hay  they  can  eat,  and  not  a  dime  will  I  charge 
for  it."  "Thank  you,  I  would  like  to  stop  in  the  city  two 
days,  to  give  my  cattle  rest ;  they  have  come  a  long  dis 
tance  and  have  still  a  longer  distance  before  them.'' 
"Stranger,  where  did  you  start  from?"  "As  you  would 
not  ta"ke  pay  for  the  hay,  I  will  tell  you  and  you  can  rely 
on  what  I  say.  I  started  from  Eureka,  California,  three 
hundred  and  three  miles  north  of  San  Francisco ;  came 
down  to  that  city,  then  took  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad 
trail  to  Ogden,  and  from  there  hereto.  I  left  Osjden  on 
the  14th  of  May,  and  have  been  nearty  a  month  coming 
the  journey."  "You  have  had  a  tough  time,  and  have 
had  all  the  rivers  to  ford,  or  nearly  so ;  who  came  with 
3*ou?"  "I  have  come  alone.  No  one  travels  from  the 
West  but  many  from  the  East.  Can  I  stay  here  to-night? 
I  he  with  my  cattle  at  nights  ;  I  have  blankets,  but  no 
tents."  "You  can  sta}*  with  your  cattle  and  give  them  all 
the  hay  they  will  eat." 

Laramie  is  the  capital  of  Albany  county,  Wyoming.  A 
fine  little  cit}*,  with  a  population  of  five  thousand.  It  is 
situated  on  the  east  side  of  Laramie  river,  with  a  vast 
plain  on  the  right  and  left.  On  the  east,  about  six  miles 
distant,  is  a  range  of  mountains ;  on  the  south,  about 
three  miles  off,  is  Fort  Sanders  ;  on  the  west  are  the  fine 
grazing  plains,  known  as  the  Laramie  Plains.  In  reach 
ing  the  city  I  crossed  these  plains.  To  the  right,  stretch 
those  lofty  mountains  which  extend  into  Colorado.  On 
the  north,  running  to  and  from  the  city,  is  the  Union  Pa 
cific  Railroad.  Laramie  has  one  of  the  finest  hotels  and 
depots  combined,  on  this  railroad.  The  town  is  finely  laid 
out  in  squares  and  contains  many  elegant  buildings.  The 
county  building  is  uncommonly  fine,  and  the  grounds  are 


^ARAMIE.  253 


tastefully  laid  out,  and  very  becoming  to  the  city.  What 
is  going  to  support  this  fine  little  city  I  can  not  sa}r.  It 
is  an  enterprising  city  and  I  hope  it  will  continue  to  pros 
per. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


FROM  LARAMIE,  CHEYENNE.  TO  OMAHA. 

On  the  morning  of  the  13th  I  left  Laramie,  travelling 
over  the  mountain,  through  the  Cheyenne  Pass,  by  Fort 
Russell,  to  Cheyenne  city.  When  I  arrived  in  Laramie, 
it  was  my  intention  to  have  followed  the  Union  Pacific 
Railroad,  but  I  was  advised  to  take  the  old  trail  to  Chey 
enne  ;  a  very  fine  trail  with  the  exception  of  about  eight 
miles.  By  taking  this  route  I  should  save  one  da}T's 
travel.  In  starting  from  Laramie  I  left  the  railroad  on 
my  right.  About  three  miles  from  the  city  I  came  to  Fort 
Sanders,  there  I  took  the  old  trail  over  the  mountain,  and 
on  coming  to  the  base  of  the  mountain  we  stopped.  It 
looked  as  if  it  was  to  be  a  long  and  a  hard  pull  for  the 
horse.  The  ascent  was  for  some  distance  on  solid  rock. 
About  noon  we  had  accomplished  the  ascent.  I  am  now 
standing  on  the  highest  elevation  in  my  journey, — eleven 
thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  shall  have 
to  descend  six  thousand  feet.  My  first  four  miles  is  very 
rough.  About  three  o'clock  I  came  to  a  creek  of  good 
spring  water,  the  best  I  have  found  on  my  journey.  I 
stopped  and  allowed  the  cattle  all  they  would  drink,  and 
gave  them  their  grain.  After  an  hour's  rest,  we  went  on, 
following  a  heavy  descent  for  about  eight  miles,  until  we 
came  to  a  plat  of  fine  grass  ;  I  had  no  desire  to  pass  it. 
Here  we  again  stopped  ;  I  took  the  horse  from  the  car- 


254  THE  BLUFF. 


riage,  removed  her  harness  and  let  her  loose  ;  she  went  to 
rollirg  ;  the  cow  went  busily  eating  at  the  grass.  It  was 
not  long  before  the  cow  went  to  bed,  but  the  horse  con 
tinued  to  eat.  I  had  gathered  wood  and  made  a  fire, 
making  some  coffee,  boiled  eggs,  which  I  ate  with  cold  ham 
and  bread  ;  it  made  me  a  good  supper.  I  brought  my  cattle 
in,  made  them  fast  to  their  places  and  gave  them  a  small 
ration  of  grain,  spread  my  blankets  and  laid  myself  down 
to  rest,  being  very,  weary.  In  the  night  I  was  awakened 
by  the  horse,  but  I  well  knew  what  was  up,  my  fire  had 
gone  out,  but  the  lantern  was  still  burning.  I  got  up  and 
went  gathering  wood  to  re-kindle  the  fire.  This  was 
essential  to  keep  my  camp  free  of  the  wild  animals. 
Having  got  the  fire  going  once  more,  I  returned  to  bed.  I 
lie  in  the  rear  of  the  wagon,  between  the  cattle,  and  I 
build  the  fires  close  by  me.  I  did  not  drop  to  sleep  as 
readity  as  at  the  first  part  of  the  night.  As  I  lie  I  had  a 
fair  view  of  the  horse.  Her  ears  were  well  pointed  down 
into  the  canyon  where  the  infernals  were,  as  I  could  tell 
they  were  there  by  the  noise.  Bessie  lay  there  chewing 
her  cud,  as  if  she  cared  but  little  whether  school  kept  or 
not.  I  was  up  and  down  the  rest  of  the  night,  anxious 
for  the  day  to  come. 

On  the  morning  of  the  14th,  I  made  an  early  start, 
yet  disliked  to  leave  the  good  grass.  My  trail  is  much 
better  than  it  had  been  the  previous  day.  After  travel 
ling  about  two  miles,  on  my  right  I  saw  a  house.  I  con. 
tinued  on,  circling  a  high  bluff  for  more  than  a  half  mile. 
This  bluff  was  so  constructed  by  nature,  that  in  following 
its  base  it  brought  me  to  this  house,  a  well-built  modern 
house.  I  went  up  to  the  door  and  rang  the  bell ;  a  lady 
came  in  answer  to  the  summons,  to  whom  I  said,  "Can  I 
make  a  dish  of  coffee  here  ;  I  am  a  traveller,  going  from 
the  West  to  the  East,  and  have  come  a  long  distance. 
Last  evening  I  went  into  camp  about  two  miles  from  here, 


THE   BLUFF.  255 


where  was  good  grass  ;  I  broke  camp  early  and  did  not 
make  breakfast."  "Wife,  ask  the  gentleman  in,"  said  a 
voice.  I  went  into  the  house  and  said  "Good  morn 
ing."  "Good  morning,  sir  ;  take  a  seat.  I  think  I  heard 
you  say  that  you  was  a  traveller  and  had  come  a  long  dis 
tance  from  the  West.  When  I  heard  the  west  mentioned, 
I  was  anxious  to  see  your  face.  Wife,  how  much  coffee 
have  you  in  the  pot?  We  are  not  quite  through  with  our 
breakfast  yet,  so  take  a  seat  at  the  table  and  eat  with  us. 
I  like  the  tone  of  your  voice  ;  it  sounds  as  though  you 
have  been  East,  sometime."  "I  belong  in  old  Massachu 
setts,  and  am  now  on  my  way  there,"  I  said.  "What  part 
of  the  west  are  you  from?"  said  my  host.  "I  am  from 
California,  the  north-western  part,  more  than  three  hun 
dred  miles  from  San  Francisco,  north,  on  the  Pacific 
coast,"  I  answered.  "When  did  }*ou  leave  California?" 
"I  left  Eureka  city,  the  first  of  June,  1882,  and  arrived 
in  Ogden  on  the  23rd  of  September.  I  left  Ogden  on  the 
14th*of  May  last,  and  have  come  the  distance  from  there 
in  one  month  to  a  day ;  travelling  nearly  six  hundred 
miles,  over  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  through  the  red  sea 
to  the  promised  land."  "Well,  have  you  come  that  dis 
tance  by  railroad,  horseback,  or  on  fo^t?"  asked  my  host. 
"Sir,  I  am  here  for  some  coffee  or  something  else.  I  have 
not  asked  for  anything  more,  but  I  may  soon,  but  I  will 
take  the  coffee  first."  After  eating  breakfast  I  said, 
"Friend,  go  with  me  to  the  gate  of  the  corral?"  "What 
for,  what  is  there?"  asked  the  stranger.  "Come  and  see 
for  3*ourself,"  I  replied,  We  went  to  the  corral,  to  which 
was  a  high  and  strong  gate,  which  is  to  hold  wild  cattle. 
"Ah,  stranger,  where  did  you  find  that  cow ;  it  must  be 
the  one  I  lost  some  time  ago?"  "Well,  friend,  she  must 
be  the  same.  I  found  her  in  California  and  have  led  her 
from  that  State,  in  the  rear  of  the  wagon.  If  the  brand 
on  her  corresponds  to  your  brand,  I  must  give  her  up.  I 
think  you  had  better  give  them  some  breakfast ;  I  have 


256  THE  PLAINS. 


had  mine  and  am  greatly  obliged."  "Stranger,  your 
horse  looks  as  though  she  could  eat  some  oats."  "Yes, 
sir ;  she  is  fond  of  them,  and  the  cow  knows  some  kinds 
of  grain.  I  carry  grain  and  have  done  ever  since  starting 
on  this  journey.  The  day  I  left  Green  River  city  I  bought 
3001bs.  and  she  hauled  it  to  Laramie."  "She  is  a  fine 
horse,  and  the  cow  I  do  not  know  about  taking  from  }rou  ; 
if  she  has  travelled  that  long  distance,  she  is  good  for  the 
remainder.  I  would  like  to  hear  from  }rou  when  you  reach 
old  Massachusetts."  "How  far  is  it  to  Cheyenne?"  I 
asked.  "Just  twenty  miles  ;  you  think  you  can  make  that 
distance  to-day?"  "Yes,  good  morning,"  and  I  went  on. 
As  I  was  moving  steadily  along  I  saw  a  herd  of  cattle, 
not  many  rods  away,  to  my  right.  The  cow  saw  them 
and  bellowed  several  times.  After  passing  them,  on 
looking  around  I  saw  them  coming  on  a  sharp  run.  There 
must  have  been  fifty  to  seventy-five  of  them.  They  over 
took  and  surrounded  us  and  were  very  troublesome  to  the 
cow,  and  I  could  not  beat  them  off.  I  took  the  dog  from 
the  wagon  and  set  him  at  them,  and  they  left  us  right 
sharp.  Going  on,  I  soon  saw  a  large  fellow  coming  down 
the  trail  in  front  of  us  ;  he  was  bellowing  loudly  and  com 
ing  dead  on  the  horse.  I  called  out  with  all  my  power  ; 
he  stopped  sharp  and  stood  for  a  few  seconds ;  neither 
stirred  ;  the  more  I  yelled,  the  less  he  seemed  to  care.  I 
caught  hold  of  my  ha3*-fork  and  went  for  him,  at  the 
same  time  setting  my  dog  on  him,  this  made  him  leave 
quickly  for  the  herd.  Many  times  I  have  thought  of  this 
incident,  and  wondered  how  I  got  out  of  it  so  easily. 
While  standing  facing  each  other,  I  thought  the  bull  would 
make  a  dash  at  the  horse,  but  the  dog  did  a  big  thing  in 
driving  him  away.  Travelling  on  we  came  to  water,  of 
which  my  cattle  drank  freety.  A  few  rods  further,  I  came 
up  to  a  man  who  was  sitting  on  the  grass  ;  his  horse  was 
feeding,  and  at  a  distance  of  about  twenty  rods,  was  a 
herd  of  sheep.  I  spoke  to  him  saying,  "Stranger,  you 


CHEYENNE.  257 


have  a  fine  herd  of  sheep ;  how  many  have  you  ?" 
"Nearly  four  thousand,  sir,"  he  answered.  "I  see  those 
dogs  understand  their  business.  Stranger,  this  is  some 
thing  new  to  me  ;  I  have  travelled  a  long  distance,  but 
have  never  before  seen  such  thorough  discipline  in  man  or 
dog."  This  herd  of  sheep  were  moving  and  feeding  at 
the  same  time  in  a  square,  with  eight  dogs  in  care  of  the 
herd  ;  two  dogs  on  each  side  of  the  square.  If  any  of 
the  sheep  fell  in  the  rear,  the  dogs  put  them  back  in  line  ; 
and  if  any  advanced  the  dogs  put  them  in  line,  they  were 
constantly  on  duty,  their  manoeuvres  is  difficult  to  describe 
on  paper.  "Stranger,  you  remarked  that  }TOU  had  come  a 
long  distance  ;  where  are  }rou  from?"  "I  am  from  Cali 
fornia."  "The  d — 1  you  are;  from  California  with  that 
outfit?"  "Yes,  sir;  with  that  outfit,"  I  answered. 
"Where  are  you  going?"  "I  am  on  my  way  to  Massa 
chusetts,"  I  answered.  "My  God,  is  that  so.  If  you 
make  that  journey,  you  will  be  the  biggest  man  out  of 
h — 1.  From  California  to  Massachusetts  ;  I  hope  you  will 
succeed.  Do  you  ever  take  an}Tthing  stronger  than  cof 
fee?"  "No,  sir;  I  like  my  coffee  very  strong."  "So  do 
I,  and  I  have  something  in  my  satchel  that  will  do  you 
good.  You  are  much  older  than  I,  here  take  a  smile  with 
me  and  put  that  in  your  box,  you  will  need  another  before 
37ou  get  to  Fort  Russell  and  another  before  reaching 
Cheyenne.  To-morrow  there  is  going  to  be  a  big  circus 
in  Cheyenne  ;  I  expect  to  be  there,  and  will  find  you  and 
fill  it  again  for  you,  I  think  you  are  worthy."  "Friend,  I 
hope  to  meet  you  again  ;  good-bye."  "Good-bye  ;  suc 
cess  to  you  and  give  my  love  to  the  folks  in  old  Massa 
chusetts."  I  left  him  and  about  three  o'clock  heard  the 
whistle  of  an  engine,  and  passed  Fort  Russell  and  reached 
Cheyenne  about  five  o'clock.  On  entering  the  city  I  stop 
ped  at  a  livery  stable  and  inquired  where  I  could  camp. 
"You  can  drive  into  my  corral  there,  if  you  like,"  said 
the  livery-man.  "Can  you  accommodate  me  with  hay?" 


258  CHEYENNE. 


"Yes,  you  can  have  all  the  ha}'  you  want  for  your  cattle." 
"How  much  will  }rou  charge  me?"  I  asked.  "Oh,  never 
mind  that.  John,"  said  the  livery  man,  "go  and  show 
this  stranger  the  corral  and  take  a  bale  of  hay  with  you. 
I  do  not  know  that  your  cattle  will  eat  our  hay,  but  you 
can  try  them."  "John,"  said  I,  "this  is  a  fine  place  to 
camp,  I  fear  I  shall  stay  longer  than  I  ought."  "How 
long  do  3'ou  intend  to  stay?"  asked  John.  "Well,  this 
bale  of  hay  will  last  me  two  daj's  or  more."  "We  have  a 
big  circus  here  to-morrow  from  New  York  ;  you  will  want 
to  see  it?"  said  John.  "Yes,  I  would  like  to  do  so,"  I 
answered.  This  corral  is  about  one  hundred  feet  square, 
with  sheds  on  two  sides.  About  twenty  feet  outside  the 
corral,  is  a  cottage  to  get  to  which  I  have  to  pass  around 
the  corral.  I  went  there  to  see  if  I  could  make  a  pot  of 
coffee,  and  on  ringing  the  bell  a  lad}r  answered  it,  of 
whom  I  requested  the  privilege  of  cooking  my  coffee,  to 
which  she  gave  me  permission.  She  called  her  husband, 
saying,  "Charles,  come  here.  This  gentleman  has  come 
here  to  make  some  coffee,  and  says  he  is  a  traveller  from 
the  West.  I  see  he  wears  a  badge  like  you  do,  which  is 
why  I  called  }*ou."  The  man  answered,  "Comrade,  how 
do  you  do.  My  wife  sa}*s  you  are  travelling  from  the 
West  and  going  East;  where  are  you  from?"  "I  am 
from  Ogden,  I  left  on  the  fourteenth  of  May."  "What 
way  are  you  travelling?"  "I  am  travelling  with  horse  and 
carriage,  leading  a  cow."  "That  is  a  strange  way  of 
travelling  over  the  Rocky  Mountains  ;  where  is  3'our  out 
fit,  Comrade?"  "In  yonder  shed  ;  you  can  see  the  horse 
through  that  window."  "I  would  like  to  see  what  you 
have  for  a  horse  that  has  crossed  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
Come,  wife,  let  us  go  and  see  it.  Ah,  Comrade,  I  see  it 
is  a  fine  Morgan.  How  far  East  are  you  going?"  "I  am 
on  my  way  home  to  Massachusetts."  "You  have  come 
from  Ogden  and  going  to  Massachusetts.  Allow  me  to 
ask  your  name?"  "My  name  is  Johnson."  "What 


CHEYENNE.  259 


town  and  county  is  jxmr  home?"  uTown  of  Webster, 
county  of  Worcester."  "Comrade  Johnson,  stop  with  us 
as  long  as  you  stay  in  the  city,  }*ou  will  be  welcome." 
"Thank  }rou,  I  will  take  dinner  with  you  to-morrow.  At 
present  I  am  here  to  make  a  pot  of  coffee,  if  you  have  no 
objection,  I  will  get  my  lunch  basket  and  eat  with  you. 
My  cow  is  four  years  old  and  has  given  birth  to  two 
daughters,  and  is  now  in  travail  and  about  the  second  of 
July,  I  expect  another.  She  is  now  giving  four  quarts  of 
milk  a  day,  and  if  you  will  give  me  a  pail  that  will  hold  a 
gallon,  I  will  milk  her  and  give  you  the  milk.'  I  milked 
the  cow  and  gave  the  lady  the  milk.  "Comrade,  excuse 
me  if  I  ask  your  name?"  "My  name  is  Brown."  "Com 
rade  Brown,  I  did  not  tell  you  the  whole  truth,  when  I 
said  I  had  come  from  Ogden  ;  I  will  say  that  I  have  come 
much  further.  More  than  a  year  ago  I  left  Eureka  cit}T, 
California,  for  Massachusetts ;  passing  through  San  Fran 
cisco,  following  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad  to  Ogden, 
where  I  arrived  September  23rd.  There  I  remained  all 
winter  and  left  there  May  14th,  and  arrived  in  Laramie 
on  the  10th  of  the  present  month.  Comrade  Brown,  the 
above  is  the  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth."  "I  re 
member  reading  in  the  papers  last  Fall  of  this  journey,  so 
you  are  the  man.  Well,  you  are  a  gritty,  old  soldier. 
What  were  3*ou  in  the  army,  what  rank?"  asked  Mr. 
Brown.  "I  was  only  a  private,  a  musician  in  the 
band  of  the  First  Brigade,  First  Division,  Tweniieth 
Army  Corps."  "Do  you  draw  a  pension?"  "I  do,  a 
small  one,  for  hernia ;  only  eight  dollars  a  month." 
"Comrade,  how  is  it  that  you  have  come  so  far  and  not 
had  your  cattle  stolen  from  you  ?  I  think  you  can't  travel 
to  North  Platte  without  having  your  horse  stolen,  as  she 
is  a  fine  Morgan  mare,  which  makes  the  chances  against 
you.  Your  only  and  safe  wa}T  is,  to  stay  constantly  with 
your  cattle.  1  would  like  to  have  you  take  a  bed  in  the 
house,  but  think  it  safer  for  you  to  sleep  with  your  cattle. 


260  CHEYENNE. 


"If  you  wish  to  go  down  town,  let  us  know,  and  we  will 
look  to  your  cattle  while  away."  "I  intend  to  ;  I  have 
travelled  two  thousand  miles,  and  every  night  have  slept 
with  my  cattle  and  shall  do  so  until  I  get  a  considerable 
way  further  East."  "After  you  cross  the  Missouri  you 
will  be  safe,  yet  you  will  find  men  all  along  the  road  who 
would  steal  the  horse  if  they  had  a  chance.  If  you  suc 
ceed  in  getting  safe  to  Massachusetts,  you  are  a  lucky 
man."  I  left  these  people  and  went  to  my  camp,  giving 
the  cattle  their  grain,  made  up  a  bed  of  hay  and  laid  me 
down  to  sleep  and  had  a  good  night's  rest. 

On  the  morning  of  the  15th  I  was  awakened  by  the 
whistle  of  an  engine  bringing  into  town  the  cars  of  the 
circus  from  Denver.  I  got  up  and  gave  my  cattle  water 
and  grain  and  went  to  the  railroad.  I  did  not  think  of 
the  safety  of  my  cattle,  when  I  did  so,  I  immediately  re 
turned  to  my  camp  and  found  all  right.  Soon  the  city 
was  alive  with  people  anxious  to  see  the  circus  horses  and 
carriages.  I  was  this  day  a  little  anxious  about  the  safety 
of  my  outfit,  on  account  of  so  many  of  the  cow-b  >}*s  and 
strangers  from  abroad.  Comrade  Brown  was  around 
soon  after  my  return,  and  bade  me  good  morning,  saying, 
"Did  you  get  a  good  night's  rest,"  and  that  the  breakfast 
was  ready,  and  invited  me  in  to  a  dish  of  coffee,  which  I 
accepted.  For  a  time  I  remained  with  the  cattle  until  I 
regained  confidence  to  leave  them.  This  I  did,  as  the}' 
were  locked  in  the  carrol  and  Mrs.  Brown  said  that  she 
would  look  after  them,  so  I  once  more  went  into  the 
streets  of  the  city  to  see  the  parade.  In  passing  along, 
intent  on  sight-seeing,  and  while  standing  in  front  of 
the  circus  tent,  I  was  tapped  on  the  shoulder  by  my 
friend  of  the  day  before,  the  herdsman,  who  said  he 
was  "Up  to  his  word."  I  told  him  he  did  not  look  as  he 
did  yesterday.  He  answered,  "No,  I  suppose  not.  I 
have  drunk  more  good  bourbon  this  morning,  than  I  have 


CHEYENNE.  261 


for  a  week  past.  Come  with  me,  traveller,  and  I  will  fill 
your  flask,  as  I  am  bound  to  keep  my  word.  I  am  not  a 
cow-boy,  but  a  sheep-boy."  He  introduced  me  to  several 
other  of  his  acquaintances,  and  having  expressed  my  fears 
for  the  safety  of  the  cattle,  he  took  me  to  a  friend  of  his 
who  keeps  a  large  saloon,  and  has  great  influence  with 
the  cow-boys.  Here  I  found  a  large  crowd ,  and  it  was 
some  time  before  we  could  get  audience  with  the  proprie 
tor,  Mr.  A .  After  a  time  we  gained  an  audience  and 

I  was  introduced  in  due  form.     Mr.  A ,  having  been 

told  my  story  and  of  my  fear,  said,  "Mr.  Johnson,  I  un 
derstand  that  you  have  been  informed  that  }TOU  are  in 
danger  travelling  through  our  county,  from  fear  of  the 
cow-boys;  is  this  true?"  "Yes,  sir;  it  is,"  I  answered. 
"You  have  been  travelling  from  the  far  west,  have  you 
not ;  have  you  been  insulted  by  any  one  on  your  journey?" 

asked  Mr.  A .       "No,  sir;  I  have  not,"  I  answered. 

"About  how  many  miles  have  you  travelled?"  asked  Mr. 
A .  "Two  thousand  miles  from  California  to  Chey 
enne,  through  the  wildest  country  on  the  globe.  Just 
emerging  into  civilization  and  have  now  stopped  for  fear 
of  the  cow-boys."  "Mr.  Johnson,  you  must  be  a  brave 
man  to  have  come  through  what  you  have  to  reach  Chey 
enne.  Now,  sir  ;  do  not  be  timid.  You  can  travel  from 
here  to  Omaha,  and  not  a  cow-boy,  or  any  other  boy  will 
harm  or  insult  you,  you  can  take  my  word  for  it,  it  is  not 

worth  much  ;  when  do  you  leave  here?"  asked  Mr.  A . 

"I  intend  to  leave  }*ou,  the  da}^  after  to-morrow,  the 
18th,"  I  answered.  "Come  in  to-morrow,  to-day  is  a 
great  da}*  with  us ;  seldom  is  it  that  we  have  such  a 
gathering.  Mr.  Johnson,  do  you  ever  take  anything 

stronger  than  three  per  cent.?"  asked  Mr.  A .     "I 

take  nothing  stronger  than  first-class  bourbon,  that  is  as 
much  as  my  head  will  carry,"  I  replied.  "Well,  boys  ; 
we  will  all  take  something  on  this  occasion,"  said  Mr. 
A .  We  went  into  the  bar-room,  which  was  filled  to 


262  CHEYENNE. 


its  utmost.       As  we  stood  at  the  bar,  Mr.  A ,  said, 

"Gentlemen,  here  is  a  man,  a  stranger  to  us  all,  who  has 
travelled  from  California  to  our  city,  with  a  horse  and 
carriage,  leading  a  fine  Ayrshire  cow,  and  a  little  dog, 
Bertie  by  name,  and  he  is  on  his  way  to  old  Massachu 
setts.  He  has  come  the  long  distance  of  two  thousand 
miles  and  says  that  he  has  not  received  an  insult  thus  far 
on  his  journey,  from  any  man,  bear  or  d — 1.  On  his  ar 
rival  here,  he  has  become  timid,  on  account  of  }rou  cow 
boys.  I  have  told  him  that  he  can  travel  from  here  to 
Omaha  and  not  a  cow-boy,  or  any  other  boy  will  injure 
him,  or  take  from  him  any  of  his  outfit."  A  voice  in  the 
crowd  asked,  "What  part  of  California  did  you  start 
from  ;  which  way  did  you  come,  by  steamer  or  overland 
road?"  "I  started  fram  Eureka  cit}r,  Humboldt  ba}r, 
three  hundred  miles  north  of  San  Francisco,  and  I  came 
the  overland  road  to  that  city,  then  following  the  Central 
Pacific  Railroad  to  Ogden,  and  from  there  to  this  place," 
I  replied.  "That  is  a  big  story  to  tell,"  said  a  voice 
from  the  crowd.  "Yes,  I  am  aware  of  it,  but  it  is  a  big 
ger  thing  to  do  it,"  I  replied.  "You  are  right,  stranger, 
and  have  you  brought  that  cow  all  the  way  from  Califor 
nia?"  said  one  of  the  crjwd.  "I  have  not  made  any 
such  statement.  She  has  travelled  every  rod  to  Chey 
enne,"  I  answered.  This  created  laughter  and  the  boys 
gave  three  cheers  with  a  will  for  the  man  from  California. 
"Mr.  Johnson,  how  do  you  feel,  with  this  crowd  of  cow 
boys  around  }TOU,  do  you  think  if  }*ou  should  meet  them 
on  the  road  they  would  take  your  horse  from  you?'' 
Cries  of  no,  no,  came  from  all  sides.  We  would  do  all  we 
could  to  help  you  along.  "Yes,  boys  ;  help  the  old  gen 
tleman  on  his  long  journey  ;  he  is  not  half-way  yet,  and 
it  is  -doubtful  if  he  succeeds.  I  h:>pe  he  may,  it  is  a  great 
undertaking.  I  say,  boys,  help  the  old  gentleman  along ; 
give  him  a  sack  of  oats  for  his  horse  and  cow,  and  for 
himself,  something  good  to  eat  and  drink."'  A  voice  from 


CHEYENNE.  263 


the  crowd  said,  "A  bottle  of  good  bourbon  is  the  kind  of 

help-along, "every  time."      "Mr.  A and  gentlemen, 

allow  me  to  make  a  remark.  Before  leaving  California,  I 
was  told  by  my  friends  and  neighbors,  that  the  enterprise 
I  was  contemplating  could  not  be  carried  out.  First,  be 
cause  a  one-horse  team  could  not  travel  the  trails  of  two- 
horse  teams  ;  second,  my  wagon  was  too  light  and  slen 
der,  with  no  brake  attached ;  third,  I  should  have  the 
wild  beasts  to  contend  with  ;  fourth,  I  sh  >uld  be  scalped 
by  the  Indians  ;  fifth,  the  Mormons  would  kill  me.  Noth 
ing  was  said  about  you  cow-boys.  In  California  I  sup 
pose  you  were  not  known  and  have  only  heard  of  you 
more  recently.  Now,  gentlemen  ;  I  have  travelled  more 
than  two  thousand  miles  and  have  received  but  one  insult, 
and  that  was  from  a  couple  of  black  bears,  who  were 
more  afraid  of  me  than  I  of  them.  The  Indians  were 
kind  and  obliging  to  me ;  I  have  been  in  their  company 
several  times  and  travelled  with  them  for  several  hours  ; 
I  have  drank  from  their  canteens  and  they  from  mine. 
Twice  having  lost  my  trail,  they  have  put  me  right  again  ; 
that  was  while  passing  through  Nevada."  Just  as  I  had 
finished  my  last  word  the  band  of  the  circus  struck  up  and 
the  whole  crowd  rushed  to  the  street  to  see  the  parade. 
I  took  the  chance  and  returned  to  my  camp.  On  arriving 
I  found  Mrs.  Brown  was  entertaining  my  animals  and  a 
large  number  of  people  that  had  congregated  to  see  my 
outfit  which  had  come  from  California,  but  all  left  as  the 
circus  parade  passed  along  the  street.  After  the  parade, 
Mrs.  Brown  said,  "Mr.  Johnson,  come  in  and  get  a 
lunch,  my  dinner  will  be  late,  as  Mr.  Brown  will  not  re 
turn  until  three  o'clock,  so  I  will  defer  dinner  until  that 
time."  I  went  in  and  had  lunch  with  Mrs.  Brown,  and 
while  eating  I  saw  "Fann}'"  looking  directly  at  me,  as  if 
she  would  like  her  lunch  also.  I  told  her  to  wait  till  I 
was  through  and  then  she  should  have  one.  Mrs.  Brown 
said,  "Mr.  Johnson,  you  think  much  of  your  horse." 


264  CHEYENNE. 


"Yes,  but  no  more  than  she  does  of  me.  I  think 
so  much  of  my  animals  that  I  would  reluctantly  part 
with  them,  but  I  may  get  into  a  tight  place  and  be 
obliged  to."  "Mr.  Johnson,  I  hope  not,  and  hope  also 
that  you  will  succeed  and  reach  your  destination  safely. 
If  you  do,  it  will  be  a  record  in  your  history."  "Mrs. 
Brown,  I  will  go  and  give  my  cattle  a  lunch  and  then  re 
turn  and  shave  if  }TOU  have  no  objections  ?"  She  gave  a 
ready  assent  to  this.  On  my  return,  Mr,  Brown  had 
come  home,  and  to  him  I  said  that  I  had  made  the 
acquaintance  of  many  of  his  citizens  and  related  my  ex 
perience  with  the  herd-man  and  his  friend  Bill  Jones,  and 

my  interview  with  Mr.  A .       "Mr.  Brown,    I  have 

given  you  the  particulars  of  my  introduction  to  the  lead 
ing  citizens.  I  have  no  doubt,  however,  but  that  it  will 
work  to  my  favor  ;  its  results  are  in  the  future."  "Com 
rade  Johnson,  this  interview  is  calculated  to  work  in  your 
favor.  It  will  carry  you  a  long  distance,  even  to  North 
Platte.  Beyond  there,  you  will  be  travelling  where  it  is 
more  thickly  settled.  I  think,  however,  it  will  be  best  to 
make  the  railroad  stations  your  camping  places. 

Cheyenne  is  an  old  town,  of  long  standing.  It  existed 
long  before  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  was  built.  It  is 
now  a  city  with  a  population  of  eight  thousand.  It  is 
known  as  the  herdsman's  city  of  the  West.  It  is  situa 
ted  in  the  southern  part  of  Laramie  county,  and  is  its 
capital.  It  is  beautifully  laid  out,  streets  running  at 
right  angles,  with  an  elevation  of  more  than  six  thousand 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Here  there  is  a  tine  view 
of  Pike's  Peak  in  Colorado. 

On  the  morning  of  the  18th  I  left  Cheyenne  for  Omaha, 
a  distance  of  five  hundred  and  sixteen  miles.  I  followed 
the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  te  Archer  station  ;  there  I  left 
the  railroad  to  my  right.  About  twelve  o'clock  I  came 


BURNS  STATION.  265 


across  a  train  of  eight  wagons,  seventeen  horses,  ten  men, 
eleven  women  and  twenty-seven  children,  bound  from 
Kansas  to  Oregon.  I  stopped  and  gave  grain  to  the 
cattle,  made  a  dish  of  coffee  and  ate  my  dinner,  and  then 
went  on.  About  six  o'clock  I  saw  a  camp  in  front 
of  me,  as  I  approached  and  stopped,  I  said  to  the  camp 
ers,  "Gentlemen,  have  you  any  objections  to  my  camp 
ing  here  with  you  to-night?"  "No,  sir,  not  any;  we 
would  like  to  have  }rou.  You  seem  to  be  travelling  East 
instead  of  West ;  we  seldom  meet  any  from  the  West. 
Where  have  you  come  from?"  "Cheyenne,  I  left  this 
morning.  Where  are  }*ou  from?"  I  asked.  We  are  from 
Kansas,  stranger."  "Where  are  you  going  to?"  I  asked. 
"We  have  started  for  Oregon,  but  may  change  our  direc 
tion  to  California;  where  are  }*ou  bound  to,  stranger?" 
"I  am  going  to  North  Platte,"  I  said.  "Are  you  going 
to  take  that  cow  with  you?"  "Yes,  sir  ;  how  many  teams 
have  you?"  I  asked.  "We  have  four  wagons  and  eight 
horses,  four  men,  four  women,  thirteen  children  and 
two  dogs. 

On  the  morning  of  the  19th  near  Burns  station,  I  broke 
camp  and  went  on  ;  the  railroad  being  still  on  my  right. 
I  had  travelled  but  a  short  distance  when  I  came  to  a 
creek  and  gave  my  cattle  a  chance  to  drink ;  they  were 
very  thirst}7  and  drank  as  though  the  water  was  good. 
Going  still  further,  we  came  to  a  spot  where  there  was 
grass  ;  here  I  stopped,  took  the  horse  from  her  carriage, 
taking  off  her  harness  and  turned  her  loose,  also  the  cow. 
I  gathered  some  wood  and  made  a  fire  and  some  coffee, 
boiled  some  eggs  and  ate  my  breakfast,  making  a  stop  of 
one  hour  and  then  went  further.  About  ten  o'clock  I 
heard  the  whistle  of  an  engine  to  my  right  and  soon  saw 
the  train,  a  western  bound  train  ;  not  long  after  I  heard 
another  whistle  and  a  train  from  the  East  came  along. 
This  was  cheering  to  us,  especially  to  me.  I  am  travel- 


266  DIX  STATION. 


ling  in  a  beautiful  valley ;  on  m}r  right  are  large  herds  of 
cattle.  I  am  in  sight  of  Pine  Bluff  station,  a  noted  place 
for  the  transportation  of  cattle  to  the  East ;  on  my  left  is 
a  high  bluff.  As  I  circled  round  this  bluff  I  drove  into  a 
valley,  crossing  the  creek,  and  had  a  fine  view  of  the 
cattle  awaiting  shipment.  About  six  o'clock  I  went  into 
camp  for  the  night,  near  Bush  well  station. 

On  the  morning  of  the  20th  I  was  up  early,  making 
ready  to  move  onward,  and  at  five  o'clock  broke  camp. 
About  eight  o'clock  we  passed  the  western  bound  freight 
train,  salutations  being  given  while  passing,  and  about 
ten  o'clock  we  passed  the  western  bound  express.  I  was 
within  forty  feet  of  the  track  and  I  threw  up  my  hat  as  a 
signal  on  passing.  Coming  in  sight  of  a  train  of  wagons, 
I  stopped  with  the  common  salutation,  "Strangers,  where 
are  you  from?"  "We  are  from  Kansas."  "Where  is 
your  destination?"  "We  have  started  for  Washington 
Territory ;  we  may  stop  short  of  that,  and  scarcely  know 
where  we  shall  finally  stop,  we  can't  get  to  a  worse  place 
than  that  we  have  left."  "What  is  the  matter  with 
the  place  you  came  from?'*  I  asked.  "We  came  from 
where  those  hot,  blasting  winds  burn  up  everything  but 
the  d — 1,  they  did  not  seem  to  cut  him  down.  Where  are 
you  from  with  that  cow?"  "I  am  from  Laramie,"  I  an 
swered.  "Where  are  you  going,  stranger?"  "I  am  go 
ing  to  Sidney.  How  many  teams  have  you?"  I  asked. 
"We  have  four  wagons,  eight  horses,  four  men,  four 
women  and  eleven  children."  "Good-bye,  .strangers  ; 
success  to  you,"  I  said  and  passed  on.  Travelling  fur 
ther  I  came  to  water,  here  I  gave  the  cattle  water  and 
grain,  ate  a  lunch  myself  and  then  went  on.  About  five 
o'clock  I  made  Dix  station.  Here  I  found  grass  and 
an  abundance  of  water,  so  I  concluded  to  stay  for  the 
night.  I  took  the  horse  from  the  carriage,  removed  her 
harness  and  let  her  loose,  the  cow  as  well.  I  spread  my 


POTTER  STATION.  267 


blankets  on  the  ground  and  laid  down  on  them.  I  had 
not  lain  long  when  a  man  came  up  to  me  and  said, 
"Stranger,  what's  ye  doing  there?"  I  raised  myself  from 
the  ground  and  said,  "What  am  I  doing  here,  don't  you. 
see  what  I  am  doing?"  "Yes,  I  see."  "No  you  don't 
see,  or  you  would  not  have  asked  so  foolish  a  question. 
I  am  a  traveller,  I  have  come  from  Cheyenne  and  am  go 
ing  to  stop  here  for  a  while,  so  that  my  cattle  can  cut  this 
grass  for  you."  "That  is  all  right,  stranger  ;  }*ou  are  go 
ing  to  camp  here  for  the  night?"  "I  don't  know,  do 
you?"  I  asked.  "No  I  don't.  If  you  want  to  make  tea 
or  coffee  you  can  make  it  in  my  house  and  welcome," 
said  the  man.  I  thanked  him  and  accepted. 

The  morning  of  the  21st  found  me  up  early,  as  usual.  I 
turned  the  cattle  loose  for  grass  and  then  returned  to  my 
bed.  I  concluded  to  travel  in  the  early  morning  and  rest 
in  the  early  evening.  I  called  in  my  cattle,  gave  them 
their  grain  and  went  on.  About  six  o'clock  I  passed  the 
western  bound  train  ;  I  flung  up  my  hat  to  signal  the  train 
and  kept  on  my  journey.  About  nine  o'clock  I  made 
Potter  station.  As  I  was  watering  my  cattle  the  western 
express  train  came  in  and  stopped,  and  about  twelve 
o'clock  I  saw  in  front  of  me,  an  emigrant  train  in  camp. 
On  coming  to  the  camp,  I  drove  up  along-side  and  stop 
ped,  after  passing  compliments,  I  said,  "Your  coffee 
smelled  so  good,  I  could  not  but  stop."  "All  right, 
stranger,  walk  in,  we  have  plentj^  of  it,"  was  the  answer. 
"I  would  like  a  dish  of  good,  hot  coffee.  I  will  bring  my 
basket  along,  if  you  have  no  objection?"  I  said.  "Bring 
it  along,  we  have  no  objections,"  was  answered.  I  took 
my  basket  with  me,  gave  my  cup  to  the  lady,  who  filled  it 
with  coffee.  I  said,  "Strangers,  there  is  one  thing  lack 
ing,  that  is  milk."  "Stranger,  we  have  no  milk,  I  wish 
we  had !"  "I  will  furnish  you  the  milk."  I  went  to  my 
wagon  and  took  the  pail  I  carry  expressly  for  the  purpose 


268  SIDNEY  STATION. 


of  milking,  I  milked  the  cow  and  carried  it  to  the  lady, 
saying,  "Take  this  milk,  and  as  often  as  you  see  or 
handle  milk  in  any  shape,  remember  the  man  who  took 
dinner  with  you  on  the  plains  of  Nebraska.  That  cow 
which  gives  us  this  milk  is  a  native  of  California  and  has 
come  thus  far  in  the  rear  of  that  wagon.  Strangers,  how 
large  a  company  have  }-ou?"  "We  have  seven  wagons, 
fourteen  horses,  seven  men,  seven  women  and  twent3r-two 
children."  "Where  are  you  from  and  where  going?"  I 
asked,  "We  are  from  Kansas  and  have  started  for 
Washington  Territory,  we  may  not  get  that  distance,  we 
are  late."  I  then  left  them  and  went  on  and  about  five 
o'clock  when  about  a  mile  west  of  Sidney,  I  stopped  and 
gave  the  cattle  grass.  As  I  lay  on  the  grass  I  saw  a  lady 
on  horse-back  coming  towards  me  ;  when  she  came  up  to 
where  I  was  lying,  she  said,  "I  want  to  buy  a  good, 
kind,  gentle  horse,  about  such  an  one  as  this  I  am  on."  I 
told  her  I  was  travelling  East,  and  was  a  stranger  in  those 
parts  and  did  not  know  of  any  horse."  ^'1  am  travelling 
West  and  have  a  sister  in  the  town  of  Sidney.  We  have 
come  from  Wisconsin,  with  this  horse  and  a  light  buggy. 
I  have  traded  the  buggy  and  harness  for  a  saddle,"  said 
the  lady.  "You  say  you  are  from  Wisconsin,  with  a 
carriage,  j^ourself  and  sister.  Where  are  you  going?"  I 
asked.  "We  are  going  to  California,"  answered  the  lady. 
"Ah,  I  am  from  California,  with  this  horse,  carriage  and 
cow  ;  37es,  and  that  little  dog.  All  of  us  have  travelled 
from  California  thus  far,  and  you  have  come  here  with  a 
carriage  ;  when  you  leave  your  carriage  }~ou  have  to  leave 
your  grain.  Had  I  left  my  grain  in  Green  River  city,  in 
stead  of  carrying  it  over  the  Rocky  Mountains,  my  cattle 
would  have  been  starved,  as  there  was  no  grass  for  days, 
that  would  keep  them  alive.  With  your  carriage  you.  can 
carry  grain,  bedding,  grub  and  clothing ;  without  it,  you 
will  have  to  carry  everj'thing  on  your  horse's  back.  I 
advise  you  to  continue  with  your  carriage."  The  lady 


SIDNEY   STATION.  269 


left  me  and  went  on  and  I  saw  no  more  of  her.  As  the 
western-bound  freight  train  was  passing  me  it  came  to  a 
dead  stop.  I  was  anxious  to  know  the  cause  and  went 
near  to  the  train.  I  heard  the  conductor  say  in  a  loud 
voice,  "You  will  leave  this  train,  or  I  will  blow  3rour  God- 
d — d  brains  out."  "Blow  and  be  d — d,"  said  the  tramp. 
There  were  three  of  them  on  the  train  who  intended  to 
steal  a  ride  through  the  night,  but  the  conductor  said  they 
should  not  ride.  He  was  obliged  to  call  up  all  hands  to 
put  them  off;  there  were  only  six  hands  on  the  train. 
The  tramps  left  the  train  and  as  it  moved  off  shots  were 
fired  from  both  parties. 

Sidney  is  a  town  grown  up  from  a  Military  Post,  which 
was  established  many  years  before  the  building  of  the 
Union  Pacific  Railroad ;  it  took  its  name  from  the  Post. 
Since  the  building  of  the  railroad,  it  has  become  a  place 
of  considerable  note,  and  it  is  the  capital  of  Cheyenne 
county.  It  is  handsomely  laid  out,  and  is  situated  on  a 
high  elevation,  four  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea.  Many  kinds  of  business  have  been  established  here, 
and  the  surrounding  country  is  well  calculated  to  support 
and  build  it  up.  One  of  the  best  eating-houses  on  the 
road  is  to  be  found  here.  Its  population  at  the  present 
is  a  little  over  a  thousand. 

On  the  morning  of  the  23rd  I  left  Sidney,  my  trail  now 
being  a  good  road.  After  travelling  about  four  miles  I 
came  to  a  house  ;  I  went  to  the  door,  rang  the  bell  and  a 
lady  came  in  answer,  of  whom  I  asked,  "Madam,  can  I 
cook  some  coffee  here?"  "Yes,  or  you  can  have  some  of 
ours  already  cooked,  as  you  choose,"  she  answered.  "If 
you  have  hot  water,  or  a  fire,  I  will  cook  enough  for  my 
dinner,  as  I  have  a  large  coffee  pot."  I  made  the  coffee, 
had  breakfast  and  then  moved  on.  About  seven  o'clock  I 
met  the  western-bound  express  train  ;  the  engineer  recog- 


270  CHAPPELL  STATION. 


nized  me  and  gave  a  salute.  I  returned  the  same  and 
continued  on  my  way.  On  coming  to  water,  I  gave  the 
cattle  water  and  grain.  I  took  a  drink  of  coffee  and  a 
lunch  myself.  About  two  o'clock  I  made  Lodge  Pole 
station  ;  here  I  stopped,  giving  water  and  grain  to  the 
cattle  ;  my  stop  was  one  hour.  About  seven  in  the  even 
ing  I  came  to  good  grass  and  concluded  to  camp.  It  was 
my  intention  to  have  madeChappell  station,  but  this  being 
an  extra  good  quality  of  grass,  I  thought  it  best  not  to 
pass  it.  I  turned  the  cattle  loose,  made  my  supper  and 
ate  it.  After  securing  my  cattle  I  gave  them  their  grain, 
went  to  bed  and  slept  till  ten  o'clock,  when  I  was  awak 
ened  by  the  eastern-bound  express  train,  but  I  was  soon 
asleep  again. 

On  the  morning  of  the  24th  I  awoke  very  early, '  I  did 
not  know  the  time  as  my  watch  had  run  down.  I  turned 
the  horse  and  cow  loose  in  the  grass,  I  then  laid  me  down 
again  and  rested  until  it  was  light  enough  to  travel. 
About  five  a.  m.,  I  reached  Chappell  station ;  soon  after 
my  arrival  the  Eastern-bound  express  train  came  in,  and 
I  called  on  the  engineer  for  the  time  and  set  my  watch  ; 
now  I  have  the  time  again.  It  was  just  six  o'clock  when 
I  left  the  station  and  at  ten  o'clock  I  reached  Julesburgh. 
In  making  here,  my  road  has  not  been  good,  it  was  the 
heaviest  travelling  since  leaving  Che3Tenne.  My  stop 
here  was  two  hours  and  then  I  went  on,  and  about  three 
I  made  Denver  Junction,  my  last  six  miles  have  been  very 
heavy  with  sand.  Here  I  found  good  grass,  and  any 
quantity  of  cattle  to  take  care  of  it.  I  turned  the  horse 
loose  and  staked  out  the  cow  ;  I  dared  not  let  her  loose,  it 
might  trouble  me  to  find  her.  I  gathered  some  fuel,  made 
a  fire  and  made  myself  some  dinner  ;  while  eating  dinner, 
two  teams  came  along-side  where  I  was  and  stopped. 
"Stranger,  which  way  are  3*011  travelling?"  the}7  asked. 
"I  am  travelling  East,  sir;  you  seem  to  be  travelling 


DENVER  JUNCTION.  '     271 


West,"  I  said.  "Where  are  you  from?"  they  asked.  "I 
am  from  Chej^enne,  I  left  there  the  18th,"  I  said.  "How 
is  the  road  there?"  they  asked.  "Your  first  fifteen  miles 
will  be  sandy,  after  you  get  over  that,  your  road  will  be 
good  to  Cheyenne.  Where  are  you  from?"  I  asked. 
"We  are  from  Kansas,"  they  answered.  "Where  are 
you  going?"  I  asked.  "We  don't  know  where  we  will  haul 
up  yet.  We  are  bound  for  California,  and  we  may  go  to 
Oregon,  can't  tell,"  they  said.  "Here  is  good  grass  and 
we  had  better  stop  for  the  night,"  they  said.  "Yes,  here 
is  the  best  grass  I  have  found  yet,"  I  replied.  My  last 
six  miles  have  been  from  south  to  east,  on  a  circle  to  Den 
ver  Junction,  coming  out  into  the  Platte  Valley.  On 
leaving  this  station,  travelling  East,  I  journey  parallel 
with  the  Platte  river. 

The  morning  of  the  25th  I  left  Denver  Junction 
about  four  o'clock,  and  about  seven  the  eastern-bound 
freight  train  passed  me ;  all  the  hands  seemed  to  know 
me.  On  my  right,  is  Platte  river  ;  large  herds  of  cattle 
are  feeding  on  its  banks  and  about  nine  o'clock  I  reached 
Big  Springs,  here  I  stopped  to  give  my  cattle  grain  and 
water,  occupying  just  one  hour,  and  then  again  went  en, 
the  day  being  very  warm  and  sultry.  At  half-past  two 
o'clock  I  made  Brule  station.  Hot  and  not  a  shade  to  get 
under.  I  am  but  a  short  distance  from  the  river  ;  cattle 
are  in  the  mud  and  water  more  then  stride  deep,  to  get 
rid  of  the  flies  ;  the  flies  are  very  troublesome  to  the  cattle 
and  are  large  and  vicious  in  their  bite.  At  four  o'clock  I 
made  Brule  station  and  about  six  o'clock  came  to  grass 
and  camped  for  the  night,  turning  the  cattle  loose  for  their 
evening  meal.  I  gathered  fuel,  made  a  fire  and  got  my 
supper  all  alone,  no  one  around  or  in  sight,  think  of  it. 
About  eight  o'clock  I  secured  the  cattle,  gave  them  their 
grain,  made  up  my  bed  and  laid  down,  but  no  sleep  came 
around,  being  troubled  with  mosquitos. 


272  O'FALLONS  STATION. 


On  the  morning  of  the  26th,  between  Brule  and  Oga- 
lalla  stations  I  broke  camp.  After  travelling  but  a  short 
distance  I  saw  the  western-bound  freight  coming  towards 
me  ;  as  we  passed  signals  were  made.  I  made  Ogalalla 
station  and  on  my  arrival  found  the  station  but  little  in 
ferior  to  Sidney.  I  fed  my  cattle  and  went  to  the  station. 
Here  I  found  a  store  with  a  general  assortment  of  goods 
of  all  kinds.  I  went  in  and  bought  some  good  butter  and 
cheese,  and  filled  my  basket  with  bread.  I  also  got  a 
sack  of  oats  and  meal  for  my  cattle.  I  went  for  my  wagon 
and  drove  to  the  store,  put  aboard  my  grain  and  basket 
and  went  on.  At  twelve  thirty  I  reached  Roscoe  station, 
here  I  stopped  long  enough  to  feed  on  water  and  grain. 
About  half-past  five  o'clock  I  made  Alkali  station  ;  I 
stopped  and  gave  my  cattle  grain  and  water  and  then 
moved  on  a  little  further,  and  at  seven  o'clock  stopped 
for  the  night,  all  of  us  being  thoroughly  exhausted,  al 
most  suffocating.  I  gave  my  cattle  all  the  oats  they  would 
eat ;  I  drank  a  dish  of  coffee,  ate  some  bread  and  cheese, 
made  up  my  bed  and  laid  down  for  rest,  being  so  weary. 

On  the  morning  of  the  27th,  as  soon  as  it  was  light 
enough  to  travel  I  moved  on,  and  at  six  o'clock  I  made 
Dexter  station ;  here  my  cattle  had  water  and  grain  and  I 
cooked  some  coffee  and  dried  beef  in  milk  and  butter,  with 
eggs  for  my  breakfast ;  a  very  good  breakfast  I  thought. 
About  seven  o'clock  I  resumed  my  journey,  my  road  now 
lies  between  two  rivers,  the  north  and  south  forks  of  the 
Platte  river.  About  eleven  o'clock  I  made  O'Fallons 
station.  Just  as  I  had  reached  this  place,  the  eastern- 
bound  freight  train  came  in.  I  stepped  up  to  the  engine 
and  said  to  the  engineer,  "Good  morning."  "Good 
morning,  friend  traveller,"  he  answered.  "You  have  an 
opportunity  to  see  me  often  ;  you  know  about  how  fast  I 
move,"  I  remarked.  "Yes,  I  see  you  are  getting  along 
finely,  you  will  make  North  Platte  to-day."  ''To-morrow 


NORTH  PLATTE.  273 


noon  I  hope  to  be  there."  The  train  moved  on  and  here 
I  stopped  for  dinner  and  fed  my  cattle.  About  five 
o'clock  I  reached  Nichols  station.  Here  was  good  grass 
and  I  gave  my  cattle  a  chance  at  it  for  the  night. 

On  the  morning  of  the  28th,  I  left  Nichols  station  for 
North  Platte,  distance  eight  miles,  which  I  reached  about 
ten  o'clock.  In  making  this  place  I  travelled  between  two 
rivers,  the  north  and  south  forks  of  Platte  river.  There 
are  two  trails  to  this  place  ;  the  railroad  and  river  trails. 
I  went  in  on  the  railroad  trail  and  encountered  several 
sloughs,  the  horse  was  in  blue  mud,  knee  deep.  Had  I 
taken  the  river  trail,  I  should  have  had  a  good  road  into 
the  town,  this  I  was  told  when  in  town,  and  too  late. 

North  Platte  is  situated  on  the  banks  of  two  rivers,  the 
north  and  south  forks  of  the  Platte  river.  It  is  the  capi 
tal  of  Lincoln  count}7,  Nebraska.  It  is  a  beautiful  town 
and  finely  laid  out.  As  you  enter  from  the  West,  you 
pass  down  a  broad  avenue.  On  the  left  is  the  railroad 
and  station  house,  a  large,  noble  looking  building  ;  on  the 
right  is  the  town.  There  are  six  streets  leading  out  from 
the  avenue  to  the  right.  Entering  the  town  by  rail,  it 
looks  grand  and  imposing.  It  boasts  a  population  of 
over  two  thousand. 

On  the  morning  of  July  1st  I  left  North  Platte  for 
Omaha.  After  travelling  about  two  miles  I  came  to  the 
north  fork  of  the  Platte  river.  Here  we  cross  the  river 
over  the  railroad  bridge.  This  bridge  is  about  nine  hun 
dred  and  sixty  feet  long,  and  sixteen  wide.  The  railroad 
track  is  laid  in  the  centre.  All  teams  have  the  right  of 
way  across.  Should  a  team  get  on  the  bridge  the  train 
stops  until  it  gets  across,  this  is  according  to  law,  I  was 
informed.  About  a  mile  below  this  bridge  is  the  junction 
of  the  two  rivers,  the  north  and  south  forks,  below  is  the 


274  BRADY  STATION. 


Platte  river.  After  passing  Gannet  station  I  came  to  two 
roads,  and  took  the  best,  by  so  doing  I  took  the  wrong 
road,  going  some  eight  miles  out  of  my  way.  On  coining 
to  a  cattle  ranche  I  learned  that  I  should  have  to  return 
some  four  miles  and  take  the  left  trail,  which  would  lead 
me  on  to  the  railroad  trail.  I  returned  .as  directed  and 
came  to  the  railroad  trail,  a  loss  of  some  ten  miles  for 
that  day's  travel.  I  was  anxious  to  reach  Brady  station, 
but  did  not  make  it  until  late  in  the  evening,  about  eight 
o'clock  ;  a  heavy  day's  travel,  too  much  for  the  cow,  as 
she  was  heavy  in  calf.  I  made  ready  for  the  night ;  the 
cattle  I  take  good  care  of,  myself  will  care  "for  himself." 

On  the  morning  of  the  2nd  I  left  Brady  station  earl}7 ; 
I  did  not  stop  to  feed,  going  on  in  the  hope  of  coming  to 
grass  that  my  cattle  would  eat  readily.  I  will  say  here 
that  grass  is  plentiful,  but  too  stout  and  heavy  to  be 
sweet  and  nutritious.  I  am,  and  have  been  particular,  in 
their  feeding ;  I  must  be  so,  or  they  will  never  reach  Mas 
sachusetts.  About  six  o'clock  I  stopped,  fed  the  cattle 
and  myself  and  then  went  on  until  coming  to  a  creek, 
with  a  broad,  deep  ford.  I  was  not  able  to  ascertain  the 
depth  of  the  water.  I  drove  into  the  creek  and  when 
more  than  half  across,  nry  wagon  was  under  water,  the 
cow  was  under,  all  but  her  head,  that  she  kept  dry. 
Making  the  opposite  bank,  in  ascending,  my  horse  was  not 
able  to  get  up  out  of  the  water  on  account  of  slipping.  I 
was  obliged  to  back  into  the  water  and  detach  the  horse 
from  the  wagon  that  she  might  get  up  the  bank.  I  carry 
two  ropes,  thirty  feet  long,  these  I  made  fast  to  the  front 
axles,  then  carry  them  on  to  good  footing,  make  them  fast 
to  the  hame  tugs,  then  the  horse  pulls  the  wagon  out  of 
the  creek.  This  done,  I  took  the  horse  from  the  carriage 
and  turned  her  loose,  the  cow  also.  I  unloaded  the 
wagon  to  have  a  dry -out,  as  most  of  my  things  were  wet. 
While  doing  this,  m}  attention  was  drawn  to  the  cow.  I 


WILLOW  ISLAND.  275 


was  about  twelve  rods  from  the  railroad.  On  the  op-, 
posite  side  is  Willow  Island  ;  the  cow  was  making  for  this 
island  across  the  railroad.  I  saw  her  intention  and  head 
ing  her,  I  staked  her  out.  I  thought  no  more  of  her  for 
a  time,  as  I  was  busy  drying  my  outfit.  Two  men 
came  up  to  me  where  I  was  and  one  said,  "Do  you  want 
to  sell  that  cow?"  "No,  sir;  I  do  not,*"  I  answered. 
"She  is  a  fine  looking  cow,  I  would  like  to  buy  her,"  he 
said.  "I  have  led  that  cow  in  the  rear  of  that  wagon  a 
long  distance  ;  more  than  two  thousand  three  hundred 
miles,  more  than  three  hundred  miles  north  of  San  Fran 
cisco,  California.  If  she  were  nothing  more  than  an  or 
dinary  cow  it  would  be  foolish  to  lead  her  that  distance. 
She  speaks  for  herself,  however."  "She  has  a  calf.  I 
went  towards  her  and  she  shook  her  head  at  me,  so  I 
went  no  further.  Would  you  sell  the  calf?"  he  asked. 
"Yes,"  I  replied,  "but  I  do  not  know  that  she  has  a  calf. 
If  she  has  one,  I  will  sell  you  the  calf,  situated  as  I  am. 
We  will  go  to  her  and  see  how  things  look."  I  went  up 
to  the  cow  all  right,  but  the  stranger  she  looked  daggers 
at.  I  found  her  with  a  calf,  "Is  it  a  male  or  female?" 
the  man  asked.  "It  is  a  male,"  I  answered.  "What  will 
you  sell  him  for?"  he  asked.  "I  will  sell  him  for  twenty- 
five  dollars,  situated  as  I  am,"  I  replied.  "I  will  give 
you  fifteen  dollars  for  the  calf,"  he  said.  "No,  I  will 
take  him  along  with  me  ;  I  do  not  care  to  take  him  from 
the  cow  yet.  It  would  be  much  better  for  the  cow  to  have 
the  calf  stay  with  her  two  days."  "I  am  in  the  cattle 
raising  business  on  a  small  scale,  and  would  like  that  calf. 
I  would  not  have  made  you  an  offer  had  it  been  a  female, 
but  as  it  is  a  male,  I  will  give  you  twenty  dollars  for  the 
calf,  that  is  the  best  I  can  do,"  he  said.  "Situated  as  I 
am,  you  can  take  him  in  two  days."  "I  would  like  to 
have  him  to-morrow,  as  I  am  going  to  move  about  ten 
miles  down  the  road,"  answered  the  man.  "You  pay  me 
for  the  calf  and  on  the  4th  I  will  deliver  the  calf  at  Cay- 


276  PLAIN  CREEK. 


ote  station."  "Here  is  your  money,  twenty  dollars  for  the 
calf.  Now,  you  are  a  stranger  to  me ;  I  wanted  that  calf, 
so  I  have  bought  and  paid  for  it.  Twenty  dollars  is  a 
large  price  ;  now  I  want  you  to  go  to,  and  stay  at  the  de 
pot  until  you  get  ready  to  go  on  the  4th,"  he  said. 

On  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  July,  as  soon  as  it  was 
light  enough  to  travel,  I  left  Willow  Island  station  for 
Cayote  station,  with  the  calf  for  John  Murray,  Esq., 
where  I  arrived  about  seven  o'clock.  On  my  arrival  I  was 
made  welcome  to  a  good  breakfast  by  Mrs.  Murra}^.  The 
children  were  delighted  with  the  calf.  The  calf  had  its 
parting  breakfast  from  its  mother,  after  which  the  little 
fellow  was  put  into  the  barn  and  the  mother  was  turned 
loose  with  a  herd  of  cattle.  My  stop  here  was  two  hours 
and  then  went  on.  About  one  o'clock  I  made  Plain  Creek 
station.  Shortly  after  my  arrival  the  western-bound 
freight  came  up.  This  day  I  have  been  travelling  through 
a  fine  farming  country. 

Plain  Creek  is  situated  on  a  high,  rolling  prairie,  and  is 
destined  to  be  one  of  the  best  towns  on  the  railroad.  It 
is  beautifully  laid  out ;  its  Main  street  runs  north  and 
south,  with  streets  running  at  right  angles ;  all  kinds  of 
business  can  be  found  here.  As  I  was  travelling  up  Main 
street  to  my  right  I  noticed  a  fine  school-house  and 
church,  not  large,  but  neat  and  elaborate.  Here  my  stay 
was  three  hours ;  I  left  this  place  at  four  o'clock  and 
travelled  until  coming  to  Josselyn  station,  where  I  stop 
ped  for  the  night. 

At  four  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  5th  I  left  Josse 
lyn  station.  About  five  o'clock  the  eastern-bound  freight 
passed  us,  and  at  six  o'clock  I  made  Overton  station, 
travelling  on  until  I  came  to  grass  where  I  stopped  to  feed 
my  cattle,  made  a  pot  of  coffee  and  ate  my  breakfast  and 


STEVENSON  STATION.  277 

then  went  forward.  On  my  right  and  left  are  fields  of 
grass  close  up  to  the  road.  My  horse  obliques  to  right 
and  left,  nibbling  at  the  grain,  then  forward,  halt,  stopped 
five  to  fifteen  minutes,  then  forward,  march.  My  horse 
does  not  understand  the  last,  so  I  sometimes  have  to  re 
mind  her  with  my  cane.  This  way  of  travelling  has  never 
been  complained  of.  The  horse  is  not  in  the  grain,  only 
two  out  of  four  wheels  were  slightly  in  the  grain.  Well, 
where  am  I?  close  on  to  Elm  Creek  station,  where  I  soon 
arrived  as  did  also  the  western-bound  freight.  I  gave  the 
cattle  water  and  offered  them  grain,  but  they  would  not 
eat  it.  Going  on  we  came  to  a  field  of  clover.  I  drove 
into  the  field  among  a  large  number  of  hogs,  giving  my 
cattle  a  chance  to  eat  a  mess  of  it,  which  they  greedily 
ate.  My  stop  was  short,  perhaps  an  hour.  It- is  warm, 
3~es,  more  than  warm,  very  hot ;  not  a  shade  can  I  get 
under.  About  eight  o'clock  a  breeze  sprang  up  and  it  be 
came  more  comfortable  travelling.  Coming  to  a  small 
grove,  the  first  shade  I  had  seen  to-day,  we  stopped  here 
for  one  hour,  it  was  a  luxury.  Resuming  our  journey  we 
passed  Stevenson  station,  and  after  going  about  a  mile 
from  there  we  camped  for  the  night.  We  were  surrounded 
with  good  grass  ;  I  made  the  cow  fast  with  the  lariat,  the 
horse  I  turned  loose. 

At  midnight  of  the  morning  of  the  6th,  I  got  ready  and 
went  on.  About  two  o'clock  I  passed  by  Kearney  station, 
and  about  four  I  made  Buda  station.  Here  I  stopped 
and  gave  the  cattle  water  and  then  went  on  to  Gibbon 
station  where  I  stopped  one  hour,  feeding  the  cattle  and 
myself.  As  I  was  leaving  the  station,  the  eastern-bound 
express  passed  me.  I  travelled  this  morning  in  merry 
glee,  my  road  being  good.  No  flies  to  bother  us,  nor  sun 
to  burn,  like  yesterday.  About  eleven  o'clock  we  made 
Shelton  station.  Here  I  inquired  if  there  were  any  shade 
that  I  could  get  myself  and  cattle  under  ?  I  was  told  there 


278  CAMP  GROVE. 


was  none  around  the  station,  but  a  short  distance  below  I 
could  get  out  of  the  sun.  "About  how  far  below?"  I 
asked.  "About  half  a  mile  ;  you  can  see  it  yonder."  I 
went  for  the  shade  ;  we  came  to  a  pine  grove,  in  the  rear 
of  which  was  a  house  and  barn  ;  approaching  the  grove  I 
saw  a  man,  whom  I  went  up  to  and  said,  "Would  }'ou 
allow  me  to  stop  a  while  with  my  cattle  in  your  grove.  I 
have  been  travelling  since  midnight  and  my  cattle  have 
come  from  Stevenson  station,  five  miles  below  Kearney 
Junction?"  "Oh,  yes  ;  stop  as  long  as  you  like.  There 
is  hay  in  the  barn,  but  if  your  cattle  prefer  grass  take  the 
scythe  and  cut  them  some  ;  give  them  all  they  can  eat,  it 
will  cost  you  nothing,"  answered  the  stranger.  I  took  my 
horse  from  the  carriage,  unharnessed  her  and  let  her  loose 
so  that  she  might  roll.  The  cow  I  kept  confined  allowing 
her  all  the  grass  she  would  eat.  "Stranger,  where  have 
you  come  from  with  that  outfit?"  "Friend,  I  have  come 
all  the  way  from  California,  with  that  horse,  carriage,  cow 
and  dog."  "Oh,  you  are  the  man  that  I  have  read  about 
in  the  papers,  coming  from  California  and  going  to  Mas 
sachusetts?"  "Yes,  sir;  lam  the  man."  "Go  into  the 
house*,  I  want  my  wife  to  see  you  !"  "Please  have  her 
step  to  the  door ;  she,  perhaps,  would  prefer  to  see  the 
cattle,  rather  than  me."  He  called  his  wife,  saying, 
"Here  is  the  man  I  read  about  on  his  way  from  California 
to  Massachusetts,  with  his  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog. 
Look,  at  the  cow,  see  what  a  mark  she  has  on  her  rump, 
that  is  enough  to  show  she  has  come  a  long  distance. 
Well,  stranger,  don't  you  want  some  dinner?  He  is 
worthy  of  a  better  dinner  than  we  can  give  him."  "While 
she  is  preparing  dinner  I  will  milk  the  cow ;  she  has  not 
been  milked  since  very  early  this  morning."  I  milked 
and  took  it  to  the  lady  saying,  "Madam,  there  is  the  milk 
that  I  have  taken  from  a  cow  that  has  travelled  more  than 
two  thousand  four  hundred  miles.  She  was  born  and 
bred  in  California,  and  has  been  led  in  the  rear  of  that 
wagon  all  that  distance." 


CENTRAL  CITY  STATION.  279 

On  the  morning  of  the  7th,  soon  after  midnight,  I  left 
Camp  Grove,  between  Shelton  and  Wood  River  stations, 
reaching  the  latter  about  half  past  two  o'clock.  I  made 
no  stop,  but  continued  on  to  Alder  station,  which  I 
gained  about  six  o'clock.  Here  we  stopped  and  had 
breakfast,  staying  one  hour  and  then  went  forward,  reach 
ing  Grand  Island  at  ten  o'clock.  Here  I  remained  most 
of  the  day,  making  the  park  my  camp.  By  permission,  I 
turned  my  cattle  loose  that  they  might  have  grass  where 
they  choose.  At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I  made 
ready  for  another  stage  on  my  journey  and  at  six  o'clock 
made  Lockwood  station.  Here  I  gave  the  cattle  water 
and  then  went  on  a  short  distance  and  camped.  My 
camp  is  close  t  >  the  railroad  ;  on  my  right  is  a  large  field 
of  corn.  A  little  further  is  a  field  of  oats.  I  led  my 
horse  to  the  oat  field  that  she  might  eat  a  few  oats,  think 
ing  they  would  do  her  more  good  than  grass.  After  a 
while  I  returned  to  camp,  making  the  horse  fast  to  a  tele 
graph  pole  for  the  night,  spread  my  blankets  and  went 
to  bed. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  8th,  about  three  o'clock,  I 
made  ready  and  went  on.  At  six  o'clock  I  made  Chap- 
mans  station ;  here  we  took  breakfast.  My  cattle  had 
grain,  myself  and  dog  took  bread  and  milk  ;  my  stop  was 
only  one  hour.  About  twelve  at  noon,  we  made  Central 
City  station.  On  making  this  last  station,  it  had  been 
warm,  the  flies  did  their  best  to  torment  my  cattle  ;  the 
horse  becoming  frantic,  I  thought  surely  she  would  break 
away  from  me.  I  covered  my  cattle  with  fh*-blankets 
continually.  About  three  o'clock  I  left  Central  City  and 
travelled  to  Clark's  station,  which  I  reached  at  seven 
o'clock.  I  stopped  and  gave  my  cattle  water  and  went  on 
until  I  came  to  a  fine  place  to  camp.  I  took  the  horse 
from  the  carriage,  unharnessed  her  and  let  her  loose,  the 
cow  I  staked  out,  as  I  was  anxious  to  know  her  where- 


280  CAMP  MANSION. 


abouts.  I  made  a  fire,  cooked  some  coffee,  boiled  eggs 
and  ate  my  supper.  After  this  was  done  I  brought  in  my 
cattle,  gave  them  their  grain  and  went  to  bed  for  the 
night.  While  lying  in  bed  I  concluded  it  was  better  to 
travel  in  the  night  instead  of  the  day,  as  the  flies  were  so 
troublesome  by  day. 

At  midnight  of  the  9th,  I  broke  camp  near  Clark's 
station  and  travelled  until  six  o'clock,  at  which  time  I 
reached  Silver  Creek  station  ;  here  we  all  took  breakfast. 
We  rested  till  eight  o'clock  and  then  went  on  and  about 
twelve  o'clock  we  made  Duncan  station.  It  has  been  a 
very  warm  morning,  the  warmest  of  the  season  and  no 
shade  to  get  into  or  under.  Meeting  a  person  I  said, 
"Stranger,  is  there  any  shade  that  I  can  get  my  cattle 
under?"  "There  is  none  very  near ;  which  way  are  you 
travelling?"  he  asked.  "I  am  travelling  East,  sir,"  I 
said.  "About  a  mile  east,  you  will  find  a  good  shade,  no 
better  in  the  State,"  said  the  stranger.  I  concluded  to 
go  on,  rather  than  stop  in  the  sun.  I  soon  reached  the 
shade,  a  beautiful  grove,  which  I  drove  into.  In  the  rear 
of  this  grove  was  a  mansion.  I  went  for  a  permit  to  stop 
a  while  at  least.  Stepping  to  the  door  I  rang  the"  bell ;  a 
lady  came  in  answer,  to  whom  I  said,  "Madam,  I  am 
travelling  East ;  I  have  come  from  the  West  a  long  dis 
tance  ;  I  have  a  horse,  carriage  and  cow.  It  is  very  warm 
and  I  would  like  to  have  my  cattle  stand  in  the  shade, 
while  they  cool  off  and  rest ;  it  is  the  warmest  day  I  have 
travelled."  "Where  are  your  cattle,  sir?"  asked  the  lady. 
"Yonder,  near  the  road,"  I  replied.  "Drive  them  in 
here,  I  would  like  to  look  at  them,"  said  the  lady.  I 
went  for  the  cattle  and  drove  them  into  the  yard.  "Let 
them  stand  there  in  the  shade,  it  will  do  them  good,"  she 
said. 

At  three  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the    10th,   I   left 


COLUMBUS.  281 


Camp  Mansion  and  arrived  at  Columbus  at  half-past  five 
o'clock  and  found  the  city  m  perfect  slumber.  I  thought 
that  I  must  be  mistaken  in  the  day,  Sunday,  as  not  a  per 
son  could  I  see  to  gain  information.  Soon,  however,  I 
saw  a  man  crossing  the  street.  "I  asked  him,  "Stran 
ger,  will  you  tell  me  where  I  will  find  a  hotel?"  "Yes, 
sir,  right  here;  this  is  a  hotel."  "I  am  travelling  and 
have  lust  made  the  city.  I  have  a  cow  that  must  be 
milked  and  would  like  to  exchange  it  for  something  to  eat 
that  I  do  not  carry.  Are  you  the  proprietor,  sir?"  "We 
will  take  the  milk  and  give  you  a  tip-top  breakfast,"  said 
the  stranger.  "Please  look  at  my  cow.  By  the  way, 
where  is  your  barn?"  I  asked.  "In  the  rear  of  the 
hotel ;  I  will  show  you."  I  went  for  the  cattle  and  took 
them  to  the  barn,  milked  the  cow  and  went  into  the  hotel 
with  the  milk.  "There,  stranger,  take  this  and  give  me 
some  breakfast  in  return,"  I  said.  "But  here  is  more 
milk  than  breakfast,"  he  answered.  "Never  mind,  re 
member  my  cattle,"  I  said.  The  landlord  turned  to  his 
man  and  said,  "John,  give  this  man  some  grain  for  his 
cattle  ;  give  them  a  good  breakfast."  We  all  had  a  good 
meal,  after  which  we  went  on  and  about  ten  o'clock  made 
Benton  station,  where  I  watered  the  cattle.  Coming  to  a 
wheat-field,  I  could  not  get  my  cattle  by  it,  they  were 
bound  to  have  wheat  for  dinner.  I  did  not  try  much  to 
keep  them  from  it,  but  allowed  them  to  eat  for  about  an 
hour  and  then  drove  on.  About  half-past  three  o'clock  I 
reached  Schuyler  station,  and  on  my  arrival  I  inquired 
for  the  best  hotel  and  went  there.  I  inquired  for  the  pro 
prietor,  who  asked,  what  he  could  do  for  me?  "I  have 
come  a  long  distance  and  have  not  got  to  the  end  }Tet." 
"Are  }'ou  the  man  that  the  papers  talk  about,  who  is  on 
his  way  from  California  to  Massachusetts,  with  a  horse, 
carriage,  cow  and  dog?"  asked  the  proprietor.  "I  think 
I  must  be  the  man  ;  I  have  heard  of  no  one  else.  I  have 
my  doubts  whether  there  is  another  man  that  would  be  so 


282  NORTH  BEND  STATION. 

foolish  as  to  attempt  the  job  again."  u Stranger,  you  are 
not  a  fool,  because  a  fool  could  not  have  done  what  you 
have.  As  to  its  being  foolish,  that  is  another  question  ; 
you  have  had  an  opportunity  that  no  other  man  has  had  to 
know  the  country,  and  should  yon  ever  get  to  the  end  of 
your  journey,  it  is  for  }'ou  to  give  us  }Tour  experience  on 
paper,  in  black  and  white.  I  sincerely  hope  you  will  suc 
ceed,"  said  the  proprietor.  "Friend,  I  am  obliged  to  you 
for  }x>ur  advice.  Should  I  succeed  in  reaching  my  destin 
ation  and  put  on  paper  the  facts  relative  to  my  journey 
across  the  continent,  I  will  send  you  the  contents  in  book 
form.  Friend  proprietor,  I  am  going  to  travel  to-night ; 
it  is  my  intention  to  reach  North  Bend.  If  }TOU  have 
some  ha}T,  I  suppose  }TOU  have  no  grass,  that  my  cattle 
will  eat,  I  will  milk  the  cow  and  you  can  have  the  milk 
in  exchange."  "You  can  have  all  the  hay  and  grain  you 
wish ;  about  what  time  will  you  leave  ?"  asked  the  pro 
prietor.  "How  many  miles  is  it  to  North  Bend?"  I 
asked.  "It  is  fifteen  miles  by  rail  and  the  same  by  the 
road,"  was  answered.  "It  will  take  me  five  hours  to 
travel  that  distance.  I  will  leave  here  about  half-past  six 
or  seven  o'clock,"  I  answered.  At  that  time  I  left 
Schuyler  and  at  half-past  nine  passed  Rogers  station,  and 
just  at  midnight  we  made  North  Bend  station.  I  gave  my 
cattle  some  oats,  spread  my  blankets  and  laid  me  down 
for  rest.  Just  as  I  lay  down  the  western  express  train 
came  in. 

I  arose  early  on  the  morning  of  the  llth,  but  not  as 
early  as  usual.  Travelling  in  the  night  is  more  agreeable 
to  my  cattle  than  the  day  ;  we  are  not  troubled  with  the 
big  flies,  they  are  so  tormenting  to  my  cattle.  As  I  was 
making  ready  to  leave,  the  hotel  proprietor  came  along 
and  said,  "Good  morning,  stranger.  Travelling,  are 
you?"  "Yes,  sir  ;  I  came  in  from  Schuyler  last  evening, 
arriving  about  midnight.  Landlord,  I  have  a  cow  that  is 


NORTH  BEND  STATION.  283 

fresh  in  milk  ;  I  am  obliged  to  milk  her  regularly,  but  she 
has  not  been  milked  this  morning.  Will  you  take  the  milk 
in  exchange  for  something  to  eat  that  I  do  not  carry." 
"Yes,  milk  your  cow,  bring  it  in  and  get  your  breakfast. 
Will  that  answer  3*011?"  asked  the  landlord.  "Yes,  sir  ; 
that  is  just  what  I  was  driving  at.'*  I  milked  the  cow  and 
took  it  to  the  hotel-keeper,  when  he  said,  "Come  with  me 
and  get  your  breakfast.  You  have  a  good  cow,  judging 
by  the  quantity  of  milk  she  gives.  Where  did  you  find 
that  cow?"  asked  the  landlord.  "That  cow  is  a  native  of 
California ;  I  am  taking  her  down  East,"  I  answered. 
"How  far  East?"  "To  Massashusetts,"  I  replied.  To 
Massachusetts ;  that  is  a  long  distance.  Are  you  the 
man  that  is  travelling  from  California  to  Massachusetts  ?'' 
asked  the  landlord.  "John,  bring  out  two  pails  of  oats 
for  this  horse  and  cow,"  the  landlord  commanded.  John 
brought  out  the  oats  and  gave  them  to  the  horse  and  cow. 
After  they  had  eaten  the  grain  we  went  on,  leaving  North 
Bend  for  Fremont.  Not  long  after  starting  on  my  wa}r, 
I  noticed  a  change  was  taking  place  in  the  atmosphere ; 
clouds  were  rolling  up,  I  disliked  their  deportment ;  they 
were  continually  rolling  and  tumbling,  trying  to  smash 
each  other.  Then  came  a  streak  of  lightning  to  the 
ground,  and  the  thunder  was  rumbling  in  our  rear. 
I  crowded  my  cattle  along  as  fast  as  possible,  hoping  to 
come  to  some  place  where  we  could  get  under  cover. 
Soon,  on  my  left,  a  stream  of  lightning  came  down,  the 
thunder  following  close  upon  it.  Here  I  am  between  two 
armies,  I  thought ;  one  on  my  right  and  one  on  my  left. 
Perpendicular,  there  was  not  a  cloud.  These  two  clouds, 
or  armies,  were  advancing  and  retreating.  Soon  the  one 
on  the  right  charged  the  one  on  the  left ;  then,  there  was 
such  a  canonading  that  I  never  heard  down  South  at  the 
time  we  crossed  the  Ogeechy  river.  All  the  time  this 
battle  was  raging,  I  was  trying  to  get  under  cover.  On 
my  left,  about  sixty  rods,  was  a  grove  of  young  willows, 


284  SHELTER  GROVE. 


from  two  to  six  inches  in  diameter ;  about  three  hundred 
feet  long  and  about  fifty  feet  wide,  running  down  to  the 
road.  We  had  almost  made  the  grove  when  the  storm 
burst  upon  us.  First,  it  was  wind,  then  hail  mingled  with 
fire  from  nitrogen  ;  it  struck  us  on  our  left.  I  was  unable 
to  hold  the  horse,  she  started  on  a  full  run  for  the 
grove.  As  soon  as  we  got  under  cover  of  the  grove  we 
were  all  right.  This  grove  was  wide  enough  to  shelter  us 
from  the  storm,  the  duration  of  which  was  only  forty 
minutes.  After  the  storm  had  passed  over  I  looked 
around,  but  no  house  could  I  see.  I  went  around  to  the 
end  of  the  grove  ;  what  did  I  see  ?  A  house  made  with 
hands,  not  more  than  two  hundred  feet  from  where  I  had 
been  standing  during  the  storm.  I  backed  my  horse  out 
of  the  grove  and  went  to  this  house,  standing  in  front 
about  a  minute  when  a  man  came  to  the  door.  I  said  to 
him,  "Stranger,  when  this  storm,  just  passed,  struck  me, 
I  was  about  twenty  rods  from  your  grove.  I  have  been 
there  all  this  time  ;  I  am  wet  and  cold  and  would  like  to 
stop  here  for  a  while.  I  am  a  traveller  and  have  come  a 
long  distance,  and  am  not  half-way  until  I  reach  Omaha." 
The  lady  of  the  house  made  a  fire  and  I  had  a  good  dry-out. 
" Stranger,  this  storm  has  delayed  my  travelling  for 
several  days.  Can  I  stop  here  until  I  am  able  to  travel 
again.  I  carry  a  lunch  basket  and  grain  for  my  cattle  ;  I 
would  like  hay  or  grass  as  you  prefer?"  I  said.  "There 
is  a  grass  cutter,  help  yourself,"  said  my  host.  "Have 
you  a  cow?"  I  asked.  "I  have,  but  she  has  not  come  in 
yet,"  he  answered.  "All  right,  my  cow  is  fresh  in  milk. 
I  will  find  the  milk,  you  the  grass,"  I  said.  When  the 
time  for  milking  came,  I  milked  the  cow  and  took  it 
to  the  lady  of  the  house,  who  said,  "You  have  a  fine  cow 
to  give  that  quantity  of  milk.  John,  come  here  and  see 
what  a  mess  of  milk  that  cow  has  given,"  said  the  lady. 
1  'Stranger,  you  have  a  rare  cow  to  give  so  much  milk; 
where  are  you  from  and  where  are  you  going?"  said  John. 


SHELTER  GROVE.  285 


4 'Friend,  stranger,  I  would  like  to  stop  with  you  until  I 
am  able  to  travel.  To-day  is  Friday  ;  with  your  consent, 
I  would  like  to  stay  here  till  Monday  morning.  If  I  stay 
I  shall  have  plenty  of  time  to  answer  your  questions.  If 
I  answer  one  it  will  lead  to  many  more,  I  will  now  an 
swer  your  first.  I  am  from  California,  with  that  horse, 
carriage,  cow  and  dog,  having  left  that  state  June  1st, 
1882,  and  arrived  in  Ogden,  September  23rd.  I  left 
Ogden  May  14th,  1883,  and  have  travelled  thus  far  since 
that  time,  about  two  thousand  five  hundred  miles.  To 
your  second  question,  I  answer,  I  am  on  my  way  to  Mas 
sachusetts."  "But  Massachusetts  is  a  long  distance  from 
here,"  said  the  stranger.  "Yes,  I  am  aware  of  it,  but  it 
was  much  longer  before  I  left  California.  I  have  been 
working  steadily  along;  I  have  killed  half  the  distance, 
and  if  nothing  serious  happens  I  will  kill  the  remainder  in 
time." 

On  the  morning  of  the  16th,  I  left  Shelter  Grove  for 
Fremont.  This  place  I  call  Shelter  Grove,  as  it  gave  me 
protection  from  the  storm  of  Friday  and  also  of  the  Sun 
day,  the  13th  following,  of  rain  and  hail.  My  stay  was 
four  d&ys  instead  of  two,  as  I  had  intended.  The  storm 
of  Sunday  was  very  severe  ;  the  rain  poured  down  in  tor 
rents,  mingled  with  hail  and  fire  that  ran  along  the 
ground ;  the  telegraph  wires  and  poles  were  very  danger 
ous.  Cloud  after  cloud,  charged  with  electricity,  would 
come  up  and  then  such  lightning  and  thunder,  as  could 
not  be  seen  or  heard  outside  of  Nebraska,  would  follow. 
After  such  storms  it  is  with  difficulty  that  people  can 
travel  as  the  roads  are  so  cut  up  and  muddy,  and  travel 
ling  on  this  mud,  as  it  dries  becomes  like  frozen  earth, 
only  worse,  for  frozen  earth  will  yield  to  the  sun,  but  this 
only  becomes  harder.  At  Julesburg,  or  as  it  is  more  re 
cently  called,  Denver  Junction,  I  made  the  Platte  Valley. 
From  here  the  lands  are  very  flat ;  since  coming  to  the 


286  FREMONT. 


flat  land  I  have  witnessed  many  storms,  not  of  rain  and 
hail  alone,  but  storm  of  fire  and  electricity.  These 
storms  are  a  terror  to  me.  The  day  previous  to  reaching 
Columbus  there  was  one  of  these  storms.  I  was  travel 
ling  beside  the  telegraph  poles,  my  trail  being  close  up  to 
them,  sometimes  the  hubs  of  my  wheels  would  strike  the 
poles.  The  lightning  had  split  down  pole  after  pole,  so  I 
left  the  trail  and  drove  into  the  high  grass  where  I  re 
mained  until  the  storm  had  consumed  all  its  ammuniton,  as 
I  was  afraid  of  the  electricity.  I  am  travelling  parallel 
with  the  railroad,  which  is  on  my  right.  After  journeying 
about  three  miles  I  was  obliged  to  cross,  then  turning 
sharp  to  my  left,  I  have  the  railroad  to  my  left,  my  road 
at  this  time  being  good.  Between  the  road  and  the  rail 
road  is  the  old  trail,  covered  with  heavy  grass.  The  flies 
are  very  troublesome  to  the  cattle,  so  much  so,  that  the 
horse  will  rush  into  the  tall  grass  to  brush  them  off.  Here 
she  took  to  the  grass  and  I  was  afraid  that  there  might  be 
a  ditch  that  she  would  run  into  and  upset  the  wagon.  I 
called  out  to  her  to  stop,  but  Fanny  would  not  stop.  I 
tried  to  get  around  her,  but  she  struck  into  the  old  trail, 
turning  round  and  back  to  the  crossing ;  I  thought  that 
here  she  would  surely  stop,  but  no,  she  crossed  and  went 
on.  I  was  close  up  to  the  wagon  and  made  ;i  great  effort 
to  clutch  some  part  of  the  harness,  but  did  not  succeed. 
She  then  started  on  a  smart  run,  but  the  cow  kept  up  with 
her  with  little  trouble.  In  this  way  we  all  went  back  to 
Shelter  Grove.  After  taking  a  good,  long  breath,  I  con 
cluded  to  try  it  again  and  did  so.  Coming  to  the  crossing 
I  concluded  it  would  be  best  to  lead  her  through  the  tall 
grass,  as  she  might  try  again  to  run  back.  In  this  esca 
pade  we  lost  over  seven  miles.  Our  road  was  rough,  but 
we  made  Fremont  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

Fremont  is  a  fine  town  ;  it  is  the  county  seat  of  Dodge 
county.      It  is  young,  as  most  of  the  towns  are  on  this 


FREMONT.  287 


line  of  railroad  ;  still  it  is  growing  fast  and  handsome. 
Enterprise  is  stamped  strong  and  firm  upon  its  appear 
ance.  I  had  occasion  to  call  at  the  Post  Office  and  was 
surprised  at  its  excellent  appearance  and  good  arrange 
ments.  I  could  not  but  ask  myself  who  was  the  designer 
of  this  beautiful  office?  If  I  am  not  misinformed,  it  was 
built  in  New  Haven,  Conn.,  and  shipped  hereto.  As  I 
intended  to  leave  early  in  the  morning  I  went  down  town 
to  learn  of  my  direction  for  to-morrow.  On  returning,  I 
passed  a  flouring  mill  and  stopped  to  purchase  a  sack  of 
grain.  After  it  had  been  put  up  and  paid  for,  the  miller 
asked,  where  I  found  my  c^w?  This  question  opens 
the  gate  for  more,  which  I  was  obliged  to  answer.  "That 
cow  is  a  native  of  California  ;  I  have  led  her  in  the  rear 
of  my  wagon  all  that  distance,  and  we  are  going  to  Mas 
sachusetts,"  I  answered.  "Here  is  your  money,  I  will 
not  be  guilty  of  taking  a  cent  from  you.  Do  you  have  to 
pay  for  what  you  have  to  subsist  on  ?"  asked  the  miller. 
"Not  often.  When  they  learn  my  story  it  costs  me  noth 
ing,"  I  answered.  "I  will  keep  you  a  week,  if  yon  will 
stay,"  said  the  miller.  "Thank  you ;  good-bye,  sir,"  I 
said.  "Good-bye  ;  success  to  you  all  along  the  road,"  he 
answered. 

On  the  morning  of  the  17th,  at  midnight,  I  left  Fre 
mont,  travelling  the  old  militar3r  road.  On  leaving  Fre 
mont  I  leave  the  railroad  to  my  right,  and  going  down 
into  the  valley  recross  the  railroad,  turning  short  to  left 
and  following  the  railroad.  Going  on  as  far  as  my  mem 
ory  would  carry  me  and  coming  to  two  roads,  I  did  not 
know  which  one  to  take.  I  followed  one  of  the  roads 
until  coming  to  a  house.  I  called  out  which  was  the  road 
to  Omaha.  A  man  came  to  the  window  of  whom  I  asked, 
"Am  I  on  the  right  road  to  Omaha?"  "You  are  not,  you 
should  have  taken  the  right-hand  road."  "If  you  had  a 
shingle  on  a  post,  I  should  have  taken  the  right  road, 


288  ELK-HORN  RIVER. 


without  being  obliged  to  wake  you  up  from  your  slumbers. 
I  think  I  shall  not  be  able  to  travel  to-night  without  wak 
ing  up  the  whole  neighborhood,"  I  remarked.  "You  go 
back  and  take  your  left  road,  go  on  a  little  distance  fur 
ther,  take  }*our  next  left  road,  then  there  will  be  no  more 
turnings  for  a  long  distance."  I  retraced  my  steps  and 
followed  the  road  as  directed,  and  came  to  a  large  river, 
crossing  it  on  a  good,  substantial  bridge,  made  of  iron. 
This  river  is  the  Elk-horn.  Going  on,  we  ascended  a  heavy 
bluff,  and  further  onward  came  to  a  store  and  post-office. 
Here  we  stopped  for  breakfast ;  after  eating  we  went  on 
till  one  o'clock,  when  we  stopped  for  water  and  luncheon. 
Our  stop  was  short  as  I  desired  to  make  the  celestial  city. 
I  could  see  the  smoke  from  the  furnaces,  indicating 
the  location  of  the  city,  and  we  now  went  on  with  good 
cheer.  About  six  o'clock  we  came  to  a  plat  of  grass 
where  we  stopped.  It  was  just  within  city  limits.  Here 
I  concluded  to  go  into  camp  for  the  night  and  early  in  the 
morning  would  enter  the  city.  I  camped  and  turned  my 
cattle  loose,  giving  them  a  chance  to  ramble.  I  gathered 
some  wood  for  a  fire  as  there  was  plent}r  around  ;  made  a 
fine  pot  of  coffee,  with  plenty  of  milk  and  sugar,  boiled 
some  eggs  and  dried  beef  in  chips  ;  seated  on  a  box  I  ate 
this  good  supper.  We  were  all  hungry.  I  spread  my 
blankets  and  laid  down,  being  very  weary.  Bessie  went 
to  bed,  but  Fannie  was  not  ready  to  retire  ;  she  seldom 
lays  down  till  late  in  the  evening,  and  I  have  never  seen 
her  laid  down  but  once  in  the  da}--time.  That  was  at 
Willow  Island,  where  Bessie  gave  birth  to  her  fine  bo}7. 
There  I  found  her  lying  down  with  Bessie.  I  brought  in 
my  cattle,  gave  them  grain  and  retired  for  the  night. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  18th,  I  was  awakened  by 
the  passing  teams  of  the  city  market-men.  I  got  up  and 
turned  my  cattle  loose  for  grass,  made  a  fire  and  cooked  a 
pot  of  coffee,  drinking  of  it  freely.  It  was  not  yet  dawn. 


OMAHA.  289 


Between  us  and  the  city  was  a  heavy  plat  of  timber, 
hiding  our  view  of  the  city  and  also  the  East.  Soon  I 
discerned  that  morning  was  breaking  upon  us,  so  I  called 
in  my  cattle  and  made  ready  to  go  into  the  city.  After 
passing  the  timber  lot  I  had  a  fine  view  of  the  city ;  we 
were  on  a  high  elevation  and  could  look  down  on  the  city. 
We  went  into  the  city  and  coming  to  a  convenient  place 
we  stopped.  My  first  duty  was  to  milk  the  cow,  as  she 
had  not  been  milked  for  twenty  hours  ;  her  sack  was  full. 
In  milking  her  I  took  eighteen  quarts  from  her ;  this  made 
her  more  comfortable.  My  second  dut}'  was  to  see  about 
the  shoeing  of  my  cattle.  I  had  been  recommended  to  a 
given  shop  ;  I  went  to  the  street  and  number  and  inquired 
for  the  proprietor,  to  whom  I  said,  "I  am  a  stranger  in 
the  city,  travelling  with  a  horse  and  carriage,  leading  a 
cow,  and  I  would  like  to  get  them  both  well  shod."  "I 
can  shoe  your  horse,  sir,  but  your  cow  I  can't,  as  I  have 
no  brake  to  put  her  in.  I  have  shod  oxen,  but  cows  I 
have  never  shod,"  said  the  blacksmith.  "Is  there  any 
one  you  know  of,  who  has  a  brake?"  I  asked.  "I  think 
there  is  not  a  brake  in  the  city.  Where  are  you  from  and 
where  are  yon  going,  to  require  the  shoeing  of  a  caw  ?" 
the  blacksmith  asked.  "My  dear  sir,  I  will  go  and  get 
my  cattle,  and  while  you  are  shoeing  my  horse,  I  will  an 
swer  your  two  questions,  it  will  take  some  time  to  answer 
them,"  I  said.  So  I  went  and  fetched  my  outfit,  and  on 
my  return  I  found  several  strangers  in  the  shop.  I  took 
the  horse  from  the  carriage  and  led  her  into  the  shop. 
She  went  very  reluctantly,  and  several  times  did  she  call 
for  Bessie  to  follow,  but  she  declined.  "Mr.  Blacksmith, 
I  will  begin  and  answer  your  questions.  To  commence 
with,  I  will  say  it  is  a  long  journey  and  will  need  some" 
thing  good  on  the  road,  if  it  is  nothing  more  than  three 
per  cent."  About  this  time  a  large  number  of  persons 
had  gathered  about  the  wagon.  My  dog,  Bertie,  sat  on 
the  seat,  he  was  feeling  finely,  but  was  being  petted  and 


290  OMAHA. 


teased  alternately,  and  some  were  pulling  his  tail.  "Boys, 
don't  pull  his  tail,'  you  would  not  like  to  have  your  tail 
pulled,"  I  said.  The  blacksmith  also  told  the  boys  to  let 
the  dog  alone.  "Mr.  Blacksmith,  3*011  see  what  condition 
those  shoes  are  in ;  the}7  have  done  excellent  service. 
Those  shoes  were  put  on  her  feet  in  Ogden.  She  has 
crossed  the  Rocky  Mountains  witli  them,  drawing  that 
carriage  all  the  distance.  That  is  not  all,  she  has  hauled 
three  hundred  pounds  of  grain  over  the  mountains,  from 
Green  River  city  until  it  was  all  eaten."  "Where  did  you 
start  from  with  the  horse  and  cow?"  asked  the  black 
smith.  "I  started  from  Eureka,  Humboldt  county,  Cali 
fornia,  with  these  animals."  I  answered.  "When  did  you 
start  from  California?"  he  asked.  "One  year  ago,  the 
first  day  of  last  June,"  I  answered.  "And  you  have 
been  all  that  time  coming  hereto?"  said  the  blacksmith. 
"I  have  been  all  this  time  coming,  going  and  stopping," 
I  answered.  "Stranger,  I  do  not  understand  }Tou,"  said 
the  blacksmith,  "I  will  explain;  coming  is  not  going; 
going  is  when  on  the  wrong  trail  and  have  to  return  to  get 
into  the  right  one  ;  stopping  is  when  you  can't  go  or  come, 
you  understand  ?"  "I  do,  go  on,"  said  the  blacksmith. 
"On  the  23rd  of  last  September,  I  arrived  in  Ogden.  I  was 
obliged  to  stop  there  until  the  14th  of  May  ;  on  that  day 
I  left  Ogden  and  arrived  in  Omaha  July  18th,  the  present 
month.  I  am  just  half-way  on  my  journey,  California  is 
West ;  Massachusetts  is  East,  and  Omaha  is  the  centre  ; 
you  understand,  Mr.  Blacksmith?"  "I  do,  and  what  is 
more,  I  will  bet  ten  dollars  you  are  a  full-blooded  Yan 
kee,"  he  answered.  "I  dare  not  bet,  I  have  no  money  to 
lose  as  I  surely  should,"  I  answered.  "John,"  said  the 
blacksmith,  "take  the  pitcher,  go  and  fill  it  with  beer." 
"What  kind  of  beer,  I  drink  nothing  but  three  per  cent., 
remember  !"  I  said.  "John,  hold  on,  we  will  go  out  and 
get  our  three  per  cent.,"  said  the  blacksmith.  We  went 
out  and  took  a  smile  of  old  bourbon,  came  back  and 


OMAHA.  291 


finished  shoeing  the  horse.  This  done,  I  asked  the  black 
smith  if  he  knew  of  a  place  where  I  could  stay  over 
night  and  feed  my  animals.  I  preferred  to  be  outside 
than  inside.  He  told  me  of  a  place  and  went  with  me 
to  it,  introducing  me  to  the  owner,  who  gave  me  permis 
sion  to  camp  there  for  the  night.  The  property  was 
owned  by  a  Mr.  Adams,  a  Mr.  Briggs  and  a  Jew.  The  twe 
former  gave  their  ready  permission,  after  having  heard  my 
story ;  the  Jew  was  awa}T  from  home,  so  I  could  not  get 
his  assent  on  going  to  see  him  about  it.  In  the  mean 
time,  I  went  down  town  and  recruited  my  lunch-basket ; 
returning  I  made  my  dinner,  and  was  eating  it  when  the 
Jew  returned  home,  and  seeing  me  camped  came  directly 
to  me  saying,  " Stranger,  who  gave  }'ou  leave  to  come 
here,  you  are  on  my  premises,  get  out  of  here  d — d  quick 
or  I  will  smash  you  up."  I  told  him  that  I  was  a  stran 
ger,  I  had  come  to  the  city  that  morning  and  had  been  to 
the  blacksmith  to  have  my  cattle  shod,  I  asked  him  where 
I  could  sta}T  for  a  short  time  and  had  been  brought  there. 
I  had  consulted  his  neighbors,  Mr.  Adams  and  Mr. 
Briggs,  and  had  called  on  him  for  his  consent,  but  not  be 
ing  at  home  was  told  to  camp  there,  it  would  be  all  right. 
The  Jew  said  it  would  not  be  all  right,  and  he  told  me  to 
get  out  d — d  quick.  Many  people  hearing  our  cantro- 
versy  had  gathered  around.  Mr.  Adams  and  Mr.  Briggs 
both  were  there.  It  appeared  that  one-half  of  my  wagon 
was  on  the  Jew's  land,  so  they  hauled  it  off  on  their 
land,  saying  to  me,  ''Stranger,  don't  you  move  a  thing; 
you  are  now,  not  on  his  grounds,  but  on  ours."  At  this 
the  Jew  was  much  excited  ;  he  left  and  went  into  his  store 
and  in  a  little  while  returned  with  a  policeman.  The 
officer  came  directly  up  to  me  and  said,  "Take  your 
cattle  and  traps  off  these  grounds,  and  quick  too,  or  I 
will  take  them  and  you  too."  "Policeman,'*  said  both 
Mr.  Adams  and  Mr.  Briggs,  "this  stranger  is  on  our 
grounds  by  permission,  not  on  the  city's,  or  anybody 


292  OMAHA. 


else's.  You  have  no  right  to  eject  him  from  these 
grounds."  While  this  controversy  was  going  on  the 
people  had  collected  in  large  numbers.  "Gentlemen, 
strangers,  I  am  a  long  distance  from  my  home."  A  voice 
in  the  crowd  asked,  "Where  is  your  home?"  "My  home 
is  in  the  State  of  Massachusetts.  I  have  no  other  and  I 
sun  on  my  way  there.  I  little  thought  when  I  entered 
3'our  city  that  I  should  receive  such  an  ovation  ;  especially 
of  this  kind.  On  my  journey  I  have  met  all  kinds  and 
grades  of  people,  from  a  Chinaman  to  a  Yankee." 
"Where  are  }TOU  from?"  asked  a  voice  in  the  crowd. 
"I  am  from  California,  direct,"  I  answered.  On  this 
three  cheers  were  called  for  the  man  from  California, 
which  were  given  with  a  will.  "Strangers  and  friends,  I 
think  I  am  not  mistaken  when  I  say  friends."  (No,  not 
a  bit  of  it,  3rou  bet.)  "I  am  simply  passing  through  your 
city,  and  stopped  to  get  my  cattle  shod  and  give  them  a 
feed  and  rest,  being  directed  to  this  place,  I  am  here  by 
permission.  This  controversy  was  uncalled  for  ;  a  little 
feeling  has  arisen,  because  this  man  is  unwilling  that  I 
should  stop  here,  and  has  brought  this  policeman  to  eject 
me  from  these  grounds ;  while  on  the  other  hand,  those 
that  gave  me  permission  to  use  these  grounds,  are  here 
defending  me.  As  it  now  stands,  I  am  sorry  I  came 
here."  At  this,  many  voices  were  heard  in  protest  from 
among  the  crowd,  who  said  they  would  stand  by  me,  one 
telling  me  "To  stand  my  hand  and  not  be  put  out  by  that 
snob  of  a  Jew."  "Friends,  you  very  well  know  that  one 
of  the  parties  must  yield.  You  know  also,  that  the  police 
are  very  courageous  at  times,  and  then  where  are  they? 
Then  this  policeman  commanded  me  to  leave  the  grounds. 
Friends,  it  is  foolish  to  kick  against  the  hackle."  On  my 
left  was  a  board  fence,  about  sixty  feet  long  and  five  feet 
high,  on  the  opposite  side  was  a  fine  grass  lawn  ;  the 
owner  of  this  lot  was  present  and  had  been  an  observer  of 
the  controversy,  "Stranger,"  said  he,  "I  have  been  a 


OMAHA.  293 


looker-on  of  this  foolish  controversy ;  I  think  that  our 
policeman  ought  to  have  known  beans  from  potatoes,  but 
he  did  not.  Lead  your  cattle  through  this  gate,  into 
these  .grounds,  there  is  plenty  of  grass,  they  can  have 
all  they  will  eat,  it  will  grow  again  ;  we  will  draw  your 
wagon  round,"  said  the  man.  I  did  as  directed.  After 
getting  around,  my  friend  said,  "We  will  wait  a  little 
while  and  see  if  they  will  order  you  from  these  grounds  ; 
they  have  the  same  right,  no  more,  nor  no  less.  I  think 
you  was  shamefully  used  on  the  other  side ;  we  will  en 
deavor  to  make  it  up.  I  would  like  to  know  }Tour  name, 
so  that  we  can  address  each  other  courteousty.  and  by  our 
right  name?"  said  the  gentleman.  "Yes,  sir  ;  that  would 
seem  more  home-like.  My  name  is  Johnson,  W.  B.,  of 
Webster,  Mass.  Please  give  me  }rour  name?"  I  said. 
"My  name  is  N.  A.  Jones,  of  Omaha,  Nebraska.  Make 
yourself  at  home  Mr.  Johnson  ;  we  welcome  you,"  said 
Mr.  Jones.  Mrs.  Jones  also  pressed  a  welcome,  saying, 
"When  I  think  how  mean  you  have  been  treated  this  da}r, 
it  is  hard  to  stand.  If  I  was  a  man,  I  should  show  fight." 
"Mrs.  Jones,  I  have  not  been  shaved  since  leaving  North 
Platte  ;  I  would  like  a  good  wash,  shave  and  change  of 
clothing,  and  then  I  think  they  will  not  know  me  on  the 
other  side  of  the  fence,  and  perhaps  not  know  me  on  this 
side,"  I  said.  They  pressed  me  to  take  dinner  with  them 
which  they  said  was  then  ready.  I  excused  myself,  say 
ing  that  I  had  a  late  breakfast  and  was  not  hungty,  but 
they  insisted  on  my  having  a  dish  of  coffee.  I  reluctantly 
went  in  to  dinner  and  took  some  coffee.  I  excused  my 
self  and  then  went  and  washed  up,  and  going  to  my  wagon 
got  a  change  of  clothing,  returned  to  the  house  and  rang 
the  bell,  to  which  the  lady  answered.  I  said  to  her, 
"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Jones?"  "I  am  very  well,  thank 
you;  will  you  walk  in,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Jones.  "You 
don't  seem  to  recognize  me,  Mrs.  Jones?"  I  said.  "No, 
I  do  not,"  she  answered.  "I  remarked  a  little  while  ago, 


294  OMAHA. 


that  they  would  not  know  me  on  the  other  side  of  the 
fence  ;  it  seems  also  the}T  do  not  know  me  on  this,"  I  said. 
"Why,  why,  Mr.  Johnson,  is  that  3*011,  it  can't  be  !"  said 
Mrs.  Jones.  "Yes,  madam,  it  is  me.  Mrs.  Jones,  I 
would  like  to  walk  down  into  the  cit3r  and  see  what  it  is 
like  ;  my  animals  are  doing  well  and  are  in  the  shade.  I 
will  not  be  long,"  I  said.  With  this  I  started  down 
town,  looking  at  this  and  that.  I  made  my  way  down  to 
the  river,  expecting  to  find  a  broad,  deep  stream,  but  I 
did  not  find  one,  it  was  about  dried  up,  and  }Tet  it  was  the 
Missouri  river.  I  expected  to  find  steamboats,  but  not  a 
boat  could  I  find.  A  fer^-boat,  I  certainly  expected  to 
see,  but  there  is  no  ferry  for  crossing  the  river.  I  made 
inquiry  how  to  cross  with  a  team,  and  was  informed  that 
the  railroad  did  the  fencing  of  teams  across,  in  cars. 
After  roaming  about  the  city  until  I  was  nearly  exhausted, 
I  returned  to  my  camp.  On  my  return,  I  found  many 
people,  men,  women  and  children,  had  assembled  to  see 
my  animals,  who  asked  hundreds  of  questions,  embracing 
my  journey  from  California  to  Omaha,  and  even  in  regard 
to  the  policeman.  Mr.  Adams  said,  "That  he  was  sur 
prised  that  they  had  a  policeman  on  their  force  who  would 
do  as  he  had  acted,  after  learning  from  the  proprietors  of 
the  ground,  themselves  having  given  permission  for  you  to 
remain  on  the  ground,  and  even  remonstrated  against 
your  removal.  It  was  a  shame  that  it  should  have  been 
done,  Why,  sir,  a  man  of  }'our  years  to  have  accom 
plished  what  you  have  done,  is  wonderful.  Then,  on  3'our 
arrival,  with  those  beautiful  animals,  having  travelled 
more  than  two  thousand  five  hundred  miles  on  foot,  re 
member  not  by  railroad,  but  on  foot,  should  be  ejected 
from  so  fine  a  place  for  rest,  when  permission  was  granted 
by  the  owners.  Stranger,  had  this  thing  happened  in 
some  of  the  places  you  have  passed  through,  we  should 
have  thought  nothing  about  it,  but  coming  into  civiliza 
tion  and  receiving  such  treatment,  is  what  I  can't  under- 


OMAHA.  295 


stand.  Stranger,  when  do  you  resume  your  journey  ?" 
4 'Next  Friday,  the  20th,  I  think  ;  but  having  such  a  fine 
place  to  camp  I  may  stay  over  one  day  longer.  It  will 
give  the  cattle  more  rest  and  that  is  what  they  need,"  I 
replied.  "Stranger,  success  to  you,  I  hope  you  will  ac 
complish  your  undertaking,"  and  with  that  we  bade  each 
other  good-bye.  "Mr.  Johnson ,  you  have  had  many  callers 
this  afternoon,"  said  Mrs.  Jones.  "Yes,  ma'am  ;  I  am 
aware  of  it,"  I  replied.  "Our  supper  is  ready,  come  in," 
said  Mrs.  Jones.  "Mrs.  Jones,  my  cow  will  want  the 
milk  taken  from  her  soon,"  I  said.  "After  tea  is  time 
enough,"  said  Mrs.  Jones.  I  took  supper  with  them 
and  when  through  went  and  milked  Bessie,  taking  nine 
quarts  from  her,  which  I  took  to  Mrs.  Jones,  saying, 
"Here  is  the  milk  from  my  California  cow,  you  are  wel 
come  to  it."  "Mr.  Johnson,  you  have  a  lovely  cow,  so 
handsome,  and  such  a  good  mess  of  milk  she  gives.  I 
hope  you  will  succeed  in  getting  her  through  to  Massachu 
setts  ;  should  you,  she  will  be  worth  her  weight  in  gold," 
said  Mrs.  Jones.  I  repled,  "That  makes  her  a  valuable 
cow,  much  more  so  than  any  animal  that  Barnum  has." 

Omaha  is  situated  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Missouri 
river,  high  up,  on  a  large  flat  bluff,  running  back  to  the 
west  and  north  on  a  high  elevation.  It  is  a  young  city, 
with  a  population  of  thirty  thousand.  It  has  come  to 
stay  for  a  while  at  least,  until  the  western  part  of  the 
state  becomes  more  settled,  then  Grand  Island  will  come 
in  for  the  star  of  the  state.  This  will  be  strongly  op 
posed  by  the  eastern  part  of  the  state,  but  it  will  surely 
come,  like  unto  Des  Moines. 


296  COUNCIL  BLUFFS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


FROM    OMAHA    TO    DES    MOINES,   DAVENPORT  AND 
CHICAGO. 

On  the  morning  of  the  21st,  I  left  the  city  of  Omaha 
crossing  the  Missouri  river  into  Council  Bluffs,  where  I 
remained  three  days,  being  invited  to  stop  over  by  a  G. 
A.  R.  comrade,  and  see  the  many  delegations  from  the 
East  leave  for  Denver  city. 

Council  Bluffs  is  located  in  the  Missouri  Valley,  and  is 
an  old  town.  It  takes  its  name  from  the  assembling  of 
the  Indians  and  Whites  in  council  on  the  bluff  overlook 
ing  the  city,  to  arrange  the  treaties  made  between  the 
government  and  the  Indians.  On  leaving  Council  Bluffs, 
I  resolved  to  follow  the  Rock  Island  Railroad,  as  closely 
as  I  possibly  could,  this  being  the  shortest  line  to  travel. 

On  the  morning  of  the  24th  I  left  Council  Bluffs  for 
Davenport  city.  I  travelled  along  the  west  side  of  the 
bluff,  making  a  gradual  ascent  for  about  two  miles, 
then  turning  sharp  to  my  right  and  went  on  do  wn  a  heavy 
descent  into  the  Mosquito  Valley,  crossing  the  Mosquito 
creek,  and  on  up  another  steep  bluff  until  about  twelve 
o'clock,  when  I  came  to  a  fine  farm  house,  where  I  stop 
ped  for  dinner,  and  turned  my  cattle  loose  among  an  ex 
cellent  quality  of  grass.  The  roads,  thus  far,  are  fenced 
with  barb  wire.  My  stay  here  was  about  two  hours, 
moving  onwards  about  two  o'clock,  and  about  six  o'clock 


OAKLAND.  297 


I  made  Oakland  ;  here  I  went  into  camp  for  the  first  night 
in  the  State  of  Iowa. 

Oakland. — On  the  morning  of  the  25th  I  left  Oakland, 
making  Atlantic  about  eight  in  the  evening  of  the  same 
day.  Oakland  is  situated  on  the  Nishnebotene  river,  and 
is  surrounded  by  a  heavy  forest  of  hard  timber.  A  rail 
road  passes  through  this  place  from  Sidney  to  Harlan. 

Atlantic. — On  the  morning  of  the  26th  I  left  Atlantic 
and  made  Adair  that  day.  Atlantic  is  the  county  seat  of 
Cass  county,  and  is  a  remarkably  fine  town  for  its  age. 
Two  railroads  pass  through ;  the  Rock  Island  and  Bur 
lington  and  Quincy. 

Adair. — On  the  morning  of  the  27th  I  left  Adair  and 
reached  Dexter  the  same  da}r.  Adair  is  situated  on  the 
Rock  Island  Railroad,  in  the  county  of  the  same  name. 
In  travelling  to  this  place  the  road  has  been  very  rough 
and  exceedingly  hilly. 

Dexter. — The  morning  of  the  28th  we  left  Dexter  and 
made  Van  Meter  the  same  da}\  Dexter  is  a  small  town 
on  the  Rock  Island  Railroad,  in  the  county  of  Dallas. 

Van  Meter. — On  the  morning  of  the  29th  we  left  Van 
Meter  and  made  Des  Moines.  Van  Meter  is  a  town  on 
the  Raccoon  river.  The  Rock  Island  Railroad  passes 
through  ;  on  leaving  the  town  we  crossed  the  river  over  a 
fine  iron  bridge. 

On  the  morning  of  the  30th  I  went  into  the  city  of  Des 
Moines  to  hunt  up  Mr.  L.  F.  Andrews,  834  Fifth  street, 
having  a  card  of  introduction  to  him,  from  Mr.  James 
Dobson,  of  Atlantic.  I  did  not  have  much  trouble  in 
finding  the  residence.  I  went  to  the  door  and  rang  the 


298  DES  MOINES. 


bell,  a  lady  came  to  the  door  in  answer.  After  passing 
compliments  I  handed  her  the  card  of  introduction.  She 
said,  "This  is  Mr.  Johnson,  the  great  traveller,  who  is 
crossing  the  continent.  We  heard  of  you  when  passing 
through  Atlantic,  by  our  brother,  Mr.  Dobson  ;  he  wrote 
us,  saying,  that  he  had  given  }'ou  a  card  of  introduction. 
Mr.  Johnson,  we  are  glad  to  meet  }rou  ;  Mr.  Andrews  is 
clown  town  and  will  not  be  back  until  twelve  o'clock. 
Please  lead  your  cattle  through  the  drive  to  the  barn,  only 
a  few  steps,  there  you  will  find  room  for  your  animals, 
and  both  hay  and  grain,  feed  them  as  you  think  best."  I 
did  as  directed,  taking  good  care  of  my  animals.  Soon 
the  lady  followed  me  to  the  barn  and  said,  uMr.  Johnson, 
how  do  3'ou  find  things?"  "All  right,  ma'am,"  I  replied. 
"I  thought  likely  }'ou  would.  Come  in  the  house  soon,  I 
have  so  many  questions  to  ask  you  ;  I  don't  know  but 
that  I  shall  weary  }*ou  out.  I  suppose  the  same  questions 
I  ask,  will  be  asked  by  my  husband."  While  we  were 
talking,  Mr.  Andrews  came  in,  when  she  said,  "Mr. 
Johnson,  I  will  make  you  acquainted  with  my  husband, 
Mr.  Andrews."  "Mr.  Johnson,  I  am  glad  to  meet  you  ; 
I  have  been  looking  for  you  for  several  days,  and  how 
have  you  got  along?"  asked  Mr.  Andrews.  "Since  trav 
elling  in  your  state  it  has  been  hard  and  hilly  ;  your  roads 
are  laid  out  by  the  compass,  a  mile  apart.  Yonder  is  a 
heavy  hill ;  the  road  is  directly  over  it,  instead  of  around 
it,  which  makes  it  hard  pulling,"  I  answered.  "Mr.  John 
son,  how  was  your  road  through  Nebraska?"  asked  Mr. 
Andrews.  "It  was  very  good.  The  western  part  of  the 
state  has  no  roads,  simply  a  trail,  but  was  good  travel 
ling,"  I  replied.  "Mr.  Johnson,  how  was  your  travelling 
over  the  Rocky  Mountains?"  asked  Mr.  Andrews.  "All 
kinds,  good,  very  good  ;  bad,  very  bad."  "Mr.  John 
son,"  said  Mr.  Andrews,  "I  have  many  questions  I  wish 
to  ask,  if  you  have  no  objections.  I  will  note  them  down 
for  one  of  our  leading  papers  in  the  city,  and  will  begin 


DES  MOINES.  299 


with  the  question,  "Where  did  you  start  from,  with  your 
outfit;  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog?"  "I  started  from 
Eureka  city,  Humboldt  bay,  California,  with  this  same 
outfit ;  travelling  the  overland  road  to  San  Francisco, 
from  there  to  San  Jose,  through  the  Livermore  valley  and 
Pass,  into  San  Joaquin  valley  to  Stockton,  up  the  Sacra 
mento  valley  to  Sacramento  city ;  following  the  Cen 
tral  Pacific  Railroad  to  Gold  Run  ;  returning  to  Colfax, 
thence  to  Grass  Valley,  Nevada  city,  Webbers  Lake ; 
through  the  Sardinian  valley  to  Verdi.  Here  I  came  to 
the  Central  Pacific  road  again  ;  following  it  to  Ogden, 
where  I  arrived  September  23rd,  1882.  On  the  14th  of 
May  following,  I  resumed  my  journey,  crossing  the  Rocky 
Mountains  by  the  old  Emigrant  trail  to  Omaha,  and  from 
there  to  this  city,  Des  Moines.  This  gives  you  my  line 
of  travel  from  California  to  this  place."  "And  you,  Mr. 
Johnson,  have  led  that  cow  all  the  distance?"  asked  Mr. 
Andrews.  "I  have,  sir."  "How  many  miles  have  you 
travelled,  think  }^ou,  to  reach  this  place?"  asked  Mr.  An 
drews.  "Fourteen  hundred  and  thirty-seven  miles  to 
Ogden  ;  from  Ogden  to  Omaha,  one  thousand  and  seventy- 
five  miles ;  from  Omaha  to  Des  Moines,  about  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  miles  ;  making  a  total  of  two  thousand  six 
hundred  and  sixty-two  miles,"  I  answered.  "By  the 
time  you  reach  Massachusetts,  you  will  have  travelled 
four  thousand  four  hundred  miles  ;  across  the  continent 
from  the  Pacific  to  the  Atlantic.  Wife,  what  do  you 
think  about  it?"  said  Mr.  Andrews.  "I  think  the  cow 
will  not  live  to  see  Massachusetts,"  she  answered.  "Mrs. 
Andrews,  if  you  will  please  give  me  a  pail,  I  will  go  and 
milk  her,  as  she  has  not  been  milked  this  morning.  She 
is  fresh  in  milk,"  I  said.  "Mr.  Johnson,  when  was  she 
milked  last?"  asked  Mr.  Andrews.  "Last  evening  about 
seven  o'clock,  I  have  the  milk  in  my  wagon.  I  have  two 
cans  expressly  for  milking.  It  may  not  be  good  as  I  am 
obliged  to  carry  it  closed  up  ;  milk  needs  ventilation  to  be 


300  DES  MOINES. 


good."  I  went  for  the  milk  and  it  was  pronounced  good. 
After  milking  Bessie  I  took  the  milk  to  Mrs.  Andrews, 
about  ten  quarts,  saying  that  "I  would  warrant  that  to 
be  good."  Last  night's  and  this  morning's  milking  made 
seventeen  quarts,  from  a  good  cow  that  has  travelled 
twenty-seven  hundred  miles.  "Mr.  Johnson,  travelling 
slowly  through  the  country,  you  have  had  a  chance  to 
judge  of  the  goodness  of  the  country  superior  to  those 
who  see  it  by  railroad,  and  who  pretend  to  know  all  about 
it,  and  yet  really  know  nothing.  Your  movements  are 
slow  ;  you  can  count  the  telegraph  poles  as  }*ou  go  along. 
When  you  get  to  your  journey's  end,  and  quietly  seated 
or  resting  on  your  lounge,  go  back  to  California  and 
travel  it  over  again,  (Don't  forget  to  stop  here  on  your 
way,)  and  put  it  all  down  on  paper,  you  are  the  man  to 
do  it  correctly  and  life-like,  from  a  Chinaman  to  a  jack- 
rabbit."  "Mr.  Johnson,"  said  Mrs.  Andrews,  "Mr.  An 
drews  has  kept  you  busy  answering  his  questions  ;  I  now 
want  to  ask  you,  perhaps  two.  How  could  you  cross  the 
plains  without  being  devoured  by  the  wild  beasts?" 
"Many  times  I  have  been  surrounded  by  the  wild  beasts, 
and  then  I  have  thought  of  home  and  my  lonely  position. 
On  such  occasions,  my  most  effectual  mode  of  keeping 
them  awa}T,  was  by  building  fires.  Where  wood  could  be 
found,  I  kept  them  burning  through  the  night ;  there  were 
•times  when  wood  could  not  be  got,  then  I  would  burn 
kerosene  oil.  I  alwa}'S  kept  my  lantern  burning  also. 
Kerosene  was  a  luxury,  I  burnt  it  night  and  day,  and  al 
ways  used  it  for  kindling.  The  night  of  the  fifth  of  June 
was  the  most  remarkable  of  my  journey.  I  was  on  the 
plains,  coming  over  the  Rocky  Mountains,  when  I  was 
overtaken  by  a  severe  snow  storm.  I  was  in  camp  and 
had  retired  for  the  night.  About  nine  o'clock  it  began  to 
rain,  which  very  soon  turned  to  hail,  and  from  hail  to 
snow,  and  continued  through  the  night.  The  wind  had 
changed  and  the  snow  fell  direct  in  the  horse's  face.  I 


DES  MOINES.  301 


changed  the  horse's  position  by  turning  round  my  wagon 
which  made  it  a  little  more  comfortable  to  the  horse.  I 
took  from  the  horse  her  blanket  and  put  it  on  the  cow, 
and  then  took  two  of  my  blankets  and  put  them  on  the 
horse,  which  added  to  her  comfort.  All  this  time  Bessie, 
the  cow,  was  lying  down,  quietly  chewing  her  cud,  not 
caring  whether  school  kept  or  not.  But  the  horse  stood 
the  storm  as  it  came.  All  this  time  I  was  exposed  to  the 
storm,  changing  my  position,  but  getting  very  cold.  I 
had  no  gloves  or  mittens  for  my  hands,  which  as  well  as 
my  feet  were  cold.  I  happened  to  think  of  my  kerosene 
oil  and  went  to  the  wagon  for  it,  I  took  the  can  and  after 
scraping  the  snow  away,  which  had  fallen  to  the  depth  of 
about  six  inches,  I  poured  oil  on  the  ground  and  set  fire 
to  it,  which  blazed  up  finely,  scaring  the  horse  who  turned 
the  wagon  to  the  rear,  some  ten  feet,  but  doing  no  dam 
age.  I  had  kindled  a  good  fire  and  warmed  my  hands. 
I  did  this  several  times,  but  it  did  not  warm  my  feet, 
which  had  become  very  cold.  I  got  a  sack  from  my 
wagon,  scraped  the  snow  from  where  I  had  been  stand 
ing  and  poured  some  oil  on  the  place  and  burnt  it.  After 
the  blaze  had  died  out  I  spread  the  sack  over  the  ground, 
took  off  my  boots  and  stood  upon  the  sack,  which  soon 
made  my  feet  quite  comfortable."  "Mr.  Johnson,  how 
was  it  in  regard  to  the  Indians?"  asked  Mrs.  Andrews. 
"At  first  the  Indians  were  a  terror  to  me,  but  that  soon 
wore  away.  I  came  in  contact  with  them  many  times, 
and  on  several  occasions  they  rendered  me  good  service. 
Twice  I  lost  my  trail,  and  both  times  they  put  me  on  it 
again."  "Mr.  Johnson,  you  were  in  Ogden  several 
months,  were  3*011  not?"  asked  Mrs.  Andrews.  "I  was,' 
I  replied.  "You  must  be  posted  in  regard  to  the  Mor 
mons  ;  what  do  you  think  of  them?"  asked  Mrs.  An 
drews.  "What  little  I  know  about  them,  I  can  speak 
highly  of  them.  At  first  I  could  not  tell  a  Mormon  from 
a  Gentile,  only  by  their  conversation  ;  their  deportment 


302  DES  MOINES. 


was  as  good  as  the  Gentiles.  The  Edmunds  bill  had  just 
passed  Congress  and  the  Government  had  commenced  the 
enforcement  of  the  law.  The  troops  of  the  Government 
were  there,  which  caused  much  excitement  among  them. 
I  became  acquainted  with  some  of  the  leading  men  of  the 
city,  who  were  Mormons.  The  First  National  Bank  of 
Ogden  is  a  Mormon  bank.  I  was  informed  by  its  cashier, 
Mr.  Young,  that  the  directors  of  the  bank  represented 
three  million  dollars.  Mr.  Farr,  formerly  of  Vermont, 
was  a  leading  man  of  the  city,  a  gentleman  in  its  true 
sense  and  a  Mormon.  When  I  was  about  leaving  Ogden 
he  said  to  me,  4Mr.  Johnson,  when  you  are  on  the  eve  of 
leaving  us,  come  to  our  store,  we  may  have  something  you 
would  like  on  your  long  journey.'  "When  about  to  leave, 
I  called  upon  him,  reminding  him  of  his  word.  He  an 
swered,  'I  am  glad  you  have  come  in  ;  I  think  you  are  a 
fair  man.  Since  my  acquaintance  with  you,  we  have  dis 
coursed  together  on  the  leading  issues  of  the  day.  When 
3*ou  arrive  at  your  old  home  in  Massachusetts,  I  want  you 
to  tell  your  people  of  us  ;  just  as  you  found  us,  from  the 
da}T  you  came  to  your  leaving.  You  have  been  with  us 
about  eight  months ;  you  leave  us  with  a  horse  and 
wagon,  do  you?  Here,  take  these  things  I  have  laid  out 
for  you,  such  as  tea,  coffee,  cheese,  butter,  beef,  chicken, 
turkey,  sardines  and  salmon/  'Mr.  Farr,  you  must  think 
I  have  a  good  horse  to  haul  that  pile  over  the  Rocky 
Mountains,'  I  remarked.  'You  have  a  fine  horse,'  said 
Mr.  Farr.  'Yes,  I  am  aware  of  it,  but  this  is  all  for  my 
self  and  dog,  the  cattle  must  be  cared  for  ;  especially  at 
this  end  of  my  journey.  When  I  get  into  Nebraska,  my 
cattle  will  not  have  to  haul  what  they  need  to  subsist  on,' 
I  said.  'Mr.  Johnson,  your  heaviest  hauling  is  between 
here  and  Evanston,  about  seventy-five  miles.  After  you 
pass  there,  you  will  have  a  down  grade.  If  you  choose, 
I  will  put  a  part  of  it  in  a  box  and  you  can  send  it  by 
rail/  said  Mr.  Farr.  'I  will  go  and  fetch  my  team,'  I 


DES  MOINES.  303 


said.  'You  need  not  go  for  your  team,  we  will  take  it 
and  you,  if  }rou  are  ready  to  return.  Mr.  Johnson,  you 
say  you  are  going  to  leave  us  ;  I  regret  it  very  much  and 
think  the  rest  of  the  citizens  do.  I  hope  you  will  be  car 
ried  through  this  long  journey  safely.  We  will  ever  re 
member  you  in  our  praj-ers.  May  our  Father  in  Heaven 
protect  you  by  day  and  night  on  your  long  journey. 
Good-bye  and  success  with  it.'  'My  dear  friend,  since 
my  acquaintance  with  you,  I  have  thought  much  of  you, 
so  much  that  I  have  singled  you  out  of  the  many  people 
of  the  city  to  discuss  the  issues  of  the  day.  I  have 
learned  much  from  you  that  I  otherwise  could  not  have 
learned.  I  have  been  one  of  your  constant  callers,  and 
when  in  need  of  anything  in  your  line  I  came  here  for  it. 
Your  deportment,  to  me  a  Gentile,  has  been  such  as  I 
shall  ever  remember  with  pleasure.  I  am  about  to  leave 
3Tou  ;  the  probabilities  are,  that  I  shall  never  see  }rou 
again,  as  I  have  no  desire  to  return  West.  Good-bye.'  " 
4 'Mrs.  Andrews,  your  last  question  has  brought  out  a 
lengthy  answer ;  I  feel  as  though  justice  should  be  ren 
dered  to  the  bridge  that  has  safely  carried  me  over, 
whether  Jew  or  Gentile.  I  am  neither,  but  a  reader  and 
thinker  for  myself ;  I  believe  in  free  agency  every  time. 
The  Bible  teaches  many  things,  but  the  laws  have  fixed 
penalties  of  dollars  and  cents.  This  ancient  history  is  a 
great  hobby  with  the  Mormons.  They  say  if  it  was 
right  in  the  olden  times,  it  is  right  now ;  if  wrong  then, 
it  is  wrong  now.  Our  natures  are  the  same  to-day  as  they 
were  j'ears  ago,  but  we  are  more  particular  about  the  veil, 
whether  it  is  thick  or  thin.  Mrs.  Andrews,  do  not  think 
I  am  in  favor  of  polj'gamy,  for  I  am  not.  I  would  like 
to  see  a  big  fire  made  of  some  of  our  ancient  records.  If 
Christ  and  his  apostles  in  their  day,  had  put  their  feet  on 
these  ancient  records,  we  should  not  now  be  contending 
with  potygamy.  But  our  natures  would  be  the  same, 
only  we  should  be  more  particular  about  the  veil,  and 


304  DES  MOINES. 


wear  a  thick  one  every  time.  The  Mormons  say  that  we 
down  East  wear  heavy  veils.  I  told  them  if  strong 
drinks  were  to  be  sold  and  drank,  I  preferred  them  veiled 
with  thick  boards.  Well,  Mrs.  Andrews,  excuse  me,  but 
I  must  make  ready  and  move  onwards,  so  good  morning." 
"Good  morning,  if  you  come  this  way,  don't  forget  to 
call,"  said  Mrs.  Andrews.  "No,  I  will  not,  my  fare  has 
been  too  good  to  be  forgotten." 

Des  Moines  is  the  capital  of  Iowa,  and  a  fine  city  for  its 
age.  It  is  situated  on  the  Des  Moines  river,  in  the 
southern  part  of  Polk  county,  and  boasts  a  population  of 
about  thirtj'-five  thousand. 

On  the  morning  of  August  1st,  I  left  the  city  of  Des 
Moines,  crossing  the  river  Des  Moines,  by  a  fine  bridge 
into  East  Des  Moines.  On  the  left  is  the  State  Capitol, 
with  her  golden  dome,  a  handsome  building.  About 
seven  in  the  evening  I  made  Colfax. 

About  four  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  2nd,  we  left 
Colfax,  making  Newton  in  haste.  About  eleven  o'clock  I 
saw  in  the  north  a  heavy  cloud.  As  it  came  up  it  looked 
terrible,  and  having  heard  much  about  cyclones,  I  con 
cluded  that  this  might  prove  one.  I  crowded  onward  as 
fast  as  possible,  hoping  to  reach  town  before  the  storm 
overtook  us,  but  I  fell  short,  as  rain  began  to  fall  on  our 
entering  the  town.  It  was  not  a  cyclone,  but  a  terrible 
thunder-storm  ;  such  lightning  and  thunder  is  seldom  wit 
nessed  outside  of  Nebraska,  but  this  happened  to  get  out 
side  of  the  line.  I  think,  however,  that  the  ammunition 
of  Iowa  is  as  good  as  that  of  Nebraska,  perhaps  not  quite 
so  sharp.  I  went  into  the  town  and  about  its  centre, 
came  to  a  house  in  front  of  which  stood  two  fine  trees,  here 
I  stopped.  The  rain  was  pouring  down  in  torrents  and 
any  quantity  of  electricity  was  being  discharged.  While 


NEWTON.  305 


standing  under  the  trees,  a  man  came  to  the  door  and 
said,  "Stranger,  don't  stand  under  the  trees,  yourself 
and  the  animals  may  be  killed  by  the  lightning."  "Friend, 
my  time  is  not  yet  come,"  I  replied.  "Lead  your  cattle 
around  to  my  barn,"  said  the  man.  "I  prefer  to  stand 
under  these  trees,  rather  than  be  in  your  barn,"  I  replied. 
The  storm  soon  passed  over.  "Stranger,"  I  said,  "this 
storm  has  stopped  my  travelling  for  one  day,  at  least." 
"Come  in,  stranger,"  said  the  man,  "our  dinner  is 
ready,  come  and  have  some."  "I  will  obey  that  order 
every  time,"  I  replied,  "but  this  retreating  to  a  barn  in 
a  thunder-storm  is  what  I  never  intend  to  do."  I  went 
in  to  dinner,  which  was  a  fine  one  ;  comprising  roast 
lamb,  all  kinds  of  vegetables,  green  corn,  cucumbers, 
puddings,  etc.  ;  when  through  dinner,  I  said  "Stranger, 
I  have  had  a  good  dinner,  now  I  want  my  cattle  to  have 
as  good  ;  I  think  much  of  my  cattle."  "I  have  hay,  old 
or. new,  also  all  kinds  of  grain.  Now,  sir  J  you  can  have 
your  choice,  or  you  can  turn  your  cattle  into  this  rowen," 
said  my  host.  "I  will  turn  them  into  this  grass,  I  think 
they  will  prefer  the  grass."  "Stranger,  where  are  you 
travelling  to?"  asked  the  man.  "I  am  on  my  way  to 
Massachusetts,"  I  replied.  "East,  to  Massachusetts ; 
where  are  you  from?"  he  asked.  "I  will  come  directly  to 
the  point;  I  am  from  California."  "What!  with  that 
outfit.  Stranger,  you  must  be  the  very  man  I  have  heard 
spoken  of  this  morning,  in  a  Des  Moines  paper.  It 
tells  of  a  man  travelling  from  California,  going  East,  to 
Massachusetts;  are  you  the  man?"  "I  suppose  I  am. 
Stranger,  can  I  stop  with  you  until  I  am  able  to  travel 
again?"  I  asked.  "Yes,  you  can  stop  as  long  as  you 
wish,  we  will  feed  you  and  your  cattle  as  long  as 
you  stay." 

Newton. — On  the  morning  of  the  4th  I  left  Newton  and 
reached  Grinnell  the  same  day.       Newton  is  the  county 


306  HOMESTEAD. 


town  of  Jasper  county.  It  stands  on  the  Rock  Island 
Railroad,  about  the  centre  of  the  county.  It  is  more 
than  an  ordinary  town,  and  few  equal  it. 

Grinnell. — On  the  morning  of  the  5th  I  left  Grinnell, 
making  Ladora  the  same  da}'.  Grinnell  is  not  only  a  fine 
town,  but  a  smart  business  place.  It  is  situated  on  the 
Rock  Island  Railroad,  and  is  a  junction  of  railroads  from 
Poweshiek  county.  Had  its  location  been  more  central,  it 
would  have  been  the  capital  of  the  county.  A  destructive 
cyclone  which  passed  over  this  town  was  said  to  have  been 
the  work  of  Providence,  but  I  would  as  soon  think  that 
Des  Moines  had  more  to  do  with  it  than  Providence. 

Ladora. — On  the  morning  of  the  6th  I  left  Ladora  and 
reached  Homestead  that  day.  Ladora  is  a  town  situated 
on  the  Rock  Island  Railroad,  in  the  county  of  Iowa. 

Homestead. — While  in  Des  Moines  I  was  informed  that 
in  this  town  oxen  were  used  for  many  purposes,  instead 
of  horses,  and  no  doubt  I  could  get  my  cow  shod,  and  on 
my  arrival  I  ascertained  I  could,  so  I  went  into  camp  for 
the  night  with  good  cheer,  giving  the  cattle  grass  and 
grain  and  took  a  cold  lunch  myself. 

On  the  morning  of  the  7th  1  arose  early  and  got  the  cow 
ready  for  shoeing.  I  went  to  the  blacksmith's  shop  and 
asked  for  the  proprietor,  when  a  man  said,  4tl  am  the 
proprietor,  what  can  I  do  for  3*ou?"  "I  have  a  cow  I 
want  to  have  shod,  can  you  shoe  her?"  I  asked.  k'I  have 
never  shod  a  cow  in  all  my  days,  but  I  have  shod  many 
oxen.  I  suppose  a  cow  can  be  shod  as  well  as  an  ox. 
Yes,  I  will  try  to  put  shoes  on  her.  Stranger,  I  have  been 
looking  for  you  for  several  days.  I  saw  in  a  Des  Moines 
paper  an  account  of  your  being  in  that  city.  It  spoke  of 
your  route  of  travel,  which  explains  why  I  was  looking 


CORALVILLE.  307 


for  you.  How  is  the  cow  in  the  brake,  will  she  shake  it 
down?"  inquired  the  blacksmith.  "No,  indeed,  she  is 
good  in  the  brake,"  I  answered.  I  led  her  into  the  brake 
and  went  to  my  wagon  for  a  rope,  which  I  made  fast  to 
her  rear  legs,  bringing  her  feet  directly  under  her,  then  I 
put  the  sling  under  her  and  lifted  her  slightly,  so  as  she 
could  just  stand  on  her  feet.  This  being  done  all  right,  I 
then  took  up  one  of  her  front  feet  and  made  it  fast  to  the 
stanchion.  "Blacksmith,"  I  said,  "remove  her  old  shoes, 
but  be  careful  that  you  do  not  break  the  shell  of  the 
hoof."  While  this  was  being  done  she  made  a  great 
effort  to  get  loose,  but  while  the  shoes  were  being  put  on 
she  did  not  make  any  struggle.  "Blacksmith,  how  much 
shall  I  pa}'  }TOU  for  this  job?"  I  asked.  "Stranger,  when 
you  get  to  }Tonr  journey's  end,  you  must  write  a  book  of 
your  travels  and  relate  what  you  have  seen,  heard  and 
done,  all  the  items,  even  to  the  shoeing  of  the  cow  this 
morning  in  the  town  of  Homestead.  After  the  book  is 
complete,  send  me  a  copy,  it  is  all  the  pay  I  ask,"  said 
the  blacksmith.  "I  will,  sir;  with  many  thanks,"  I  re 
plied.  Homestead  is  in  the  county  of  Iowa.  About 
eight  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  7th  I  left  Homestead, 
making  Coralville  at  five  o'clock,  where  I  stopped  for  the 
night. 

Coralville. — At  eight  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  8th 
I  left  Coralville,  making  Iowa  city.  This  place  is  a  town 
situated  on  the  Iowa  river,  about  four  miles  from  Iowa 
city.  It  is  quite  a  place  for  the  making  of  flour.  I  en 
tered  this  town  on  Sunday  morning.  Many  people 
gathered  around  me  and  many  questions  were  asked  on 
one  side  onlj-,  I  having  none  to  ask.  I  was  presented 
with  two  bags  of  grain  for  my  cattle  and  a  first-class  din 
ner  for  myself  and  dog. 

Iowa  City. — On  the  morning  of  the  10th  I  left  Iowa 


308  CEDAR  RIVER. 


city,  making  West  Liberty  that  day.  Iowa  city  is  situa 
ted  on  the  Iowa  river  and  Rock  Island  Railroad,  in  John 
son  county.  Formerly  it  was  the  capital  of  the  State 
and  now  it  is  merely  the  county  seat;  it  has  a  pop 
ulation  of  about  seven  thousand. 

West  Liberty. — On  the  morning  of  the  12th  I  left  West 
Liberty,  reaching  Cedar  River.  This  town  is  situated  on 
the  Rock  Island  Railroad,  and  is  a  junction  of  railroads, 
in  Muscatine  county.  About  twelve  o'clock  I  came  to 
Cedar  river,  a  large  stream  of  water  ;  no  bridge  to  cross 
over  and  too  deep  to  ford.  I  called  out  for  the  Ferryman. 
The  boatman  got  aboard  his  boat  and  began  crossing  the 
river ;  coming  to  a  sand-bar,  he  labored  hard  for  an  hour 
or  more  to  get  his  boat  over  the  bar  but  did  not  succeed. 
He  returned  to  the  wharf  and  I  went  back  a  short 
distance  and  went  into  camp  for  a  time,  not  knowing  how 
long.  Several  teams  came  to  the  crossing,  but  turned 
back.  A  two-horse  team  with  two  gentlemen  drove  up 
to  the  river,  and  on  turning  back  I  hailed  them,  asking 
what  they  intended  to  do?  They  replied,  "We  shall  go 
round  through  Muscatine,  crossing  the  river  there,  over  a 
bridge."  ''What  is  the  distance?"  I  asked.  "About 
twelve  miles ;  where  are  you  travelling  to?"  they  asked. 
"I  am  going  to  Davenport,"  I  answered.  "If  you  cross 
the  river  here,  you  will  reach  Davenport  in  a  day  ;  if  you 
go  by  Muscatine  it  will  take  you  three  days,"  they  said. 
"But  can  I  cross?"  I  asked.  "No  doubt  you  can,  some 
time,"  they  replied.  I  concluded  to  wait  until  morning 
and  take  my  chances. 

On  the  morning  of  the  13th,  on  the  banks  of  Cedar 
river,  I  got  up  early  and  made  ready  for  crossing  the 
river.  I  drove  down  to  the  river  and  sang  out  for  the 
boatman,  who  soon  came  down  and  pulled  his  boat  across 
the  channel,  to  where  yesterday's  sand-bar  was,  and  came 


DAVENPORT.  309 


directly  across  to  the  landing  where  I  was.  I  drove  on 
the  boat  and  was  soon  across  the  river.  I  said  to  the 
boatman  this  delay  is  expressly  for  my  benefit ;  had  I 
gone  around  to  Muscatine,  I  should  have  had  to  travel 
three  days  to  have  made  Davenport,  now  I  can  travel  the 
distance  in  a  day  and  a  half ;  a  saving  of  at  least  forty 
miles.  I  went  on  and  reached  Fulton  where  I  stopped  for 
the  night. 

Fulton. — On  the  morning  of  the  14th  I  left  Fulton  and 
reached  Davenport  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Ful 
ton  is  situated  on  the  Rock  Island  Railroad,  in  the  county 
of  Muscatine. 

Davenport  is  situated  on  the  western  bank  of  the  Mis 
sissippi  river,  opposite  Rock  Island,  in  Scott  county. 
It  is  a  fine  enterprising  city  of  about  twenty-five  thousand 
inhabitants. 

About  four  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  16th  I  left 
Davenport,  making  Creek  river  the  same  evening.  On 
leaving  the  city  I  crossed  the  river  on  the  finest  iron 
bridge  I  had  as  yet  seen,  into  Rock  Island,  passing  di 
rectly  by  the  Fort.  The  next  place  reached  was  Moline. 
A  fine  town,  everything  about  it  was  excellent,  nothing 
seemed  out  of  tune.  I  travelled  along  with  the  river  on 
the  left  and  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  I  met  a  team, 
in  which  were  a  lady  and  gentleman.  I  stopped  them  and 
asked  the  road  to  Geneseo.  I  was  told  to  go  on  a  little 
distance  further  and  turn  sharp  to  my  right,  cross  the  rail 
road,  and  after  crossing  turn  again  short  to  the  right  and 
onward  to  Rock  river  ferry.  On  my  arrival  I  found  a 
suitable  place  and  went  into  camp  for  the  night. 

JRock  River  I  left  on  the  morning  of  the  17th,  making 
Geneseo  the  same  day.  Here  I  crossed  the  river  on  a 


310  GENESEO. 


ferry-boat,  after  staying   four  days ;  a  longer  time  than 
I  expected. 

Geneseo  I  left  on  the  morning  of  the  21st,  reaching 
Mineral  the  same  day.  Geneseo  is  situated  on  the  Rock 
Island  Railroad,  in  the  county  of  Henry.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  progressive  towns  in  the  State.  I  was  compelled  to 
stop  over  three  days  ;  I  will  tell  you  the  reason.  About 
thirty  years  ago,  a  man  by  the  name  of  Dwight  Freeman, 
went  West  from  Webster  ;  he  was  a  special  friend  of  mine. 
He  made  a  wife  of  a  fine  3roung  lady,  that  I  thought  much 
of.  Before  leaving  Des  Moines,  a  programme  of  my 
route  was  made  out  and  reported  in  the  papers  ;  stating 
that  I,  Warren  B.  Johnson,  from  California,  going  East, 
to  Massachusetts,  would  follow  the  Rock  Island  Railroad 
to  Davenport,  from  there  to  Joliet  and  on  direct  to  Cleve 
land,  Ohio,  thence  to  Buffalo,  and  from  Buffalo  on  to  Al 
bany,  N.  Y.  Mr.  Freeman  was  on  the  look-out  for  me  ; 
he  intended  to  catch  me  if  possible  on  this  route.  He 
said  to  his  wife,  "Sarah,  Warren  will  come  from  Rock 
Island  direct  to  Geneseo.  He  will  come  either  this  or  the 
west  road,  one  of  the  two."  Well,  I  had  travelled  that 
road  and  went  directly  past  his  house,  camping  directly  in 
front  of  it,  and  did  not  know  that  I  was  within  tens  of 
miles  of  him.  In  the  morning,  early  as  usual,  I  broke 
camp  and  went  into  the  town.  Mr.  Freeman,  that  morn 
ing,  went  to  his  pasture  earl}',  but  not  as  early  as  I  start 
when  I  am  travelling,  to  see  if  his  horses  were  safe,  and 
saw  where  I  had  just  left  camp  ;  which  he  learned  by  the 
tracks  of  the  cow,  she  having  on  iron  shoes.  He  returned 
to  his  house  and  said  to  his  wife,  "Sarah,  I  am  going  up 
town.  Warren  is  there  ;  I  am  sure  he  is.  Last  night  he 
went  into  camp  directly  opposite  us  ;  I  know  by  the  marks 
of  his  cow.  I  am  going  up  town  ;  I  will  know  surely  and 
not  let  him  pass  me  by."  He  harnessed  his  horse,  put 
her  in  the  carriage  and  drove  to  the  town.  When  he  came 


GENESEO.  311 


up  I  was  milking  the  cow  in  front  of  the  hotel.  Quite  a 
large  gathering  of  people  were  around  watching  me  milk 
the  California  cow.  They  were  sure  that  I  was  the  man 
the  papers  spoke  about.  Mr.  Freeman  did  not  wait  for  me 
to  finish  milking,  but  came  directly  up  to  me,  saying, 
"Warren,  I  have  caught  you  this  time  ;  I  have  been  look 
ing  for  you  many  days.  I  knew  of  }'our  arrival  in  Daven 
port,  the  papers  mentioned  you.  I  said  to  my  wife  yes 
terday,  that  you  would  come  through  the  town  on  the 
eastern  road,  or  the  west,  sure.  I  was  right,  you  came  on 
the  east  road,  directly  by  my  house,  but  we  did  not  know 
it  at  the  time.  Well,  Warren,  finish  your  milking  and 
go  back  to  where  you  camped  last  night.'*  "Dwight," 
said  I,  "I  will  go  back  with  you,  expressly  to  sec  your 
wife ;  I  have  not  seen  }TOU  nor  your  wife  since  you  left 
Webster,  nearly  thirty  years  ago."  At  this  time  a  large 
number  of  people  had  gathered  around.  The  inhabitants 
would  tell  one  another  that  the  man  from  California  had  ar 
rived  with  his  outfit,  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog,  "Come 
quick  or  you  will  not  see  him.  He  is  going  to  stop  with 
Mr,  Freeman  for  a  short  time."  Many  questions  were 
asked,  and  I  remarked  that  if  they  would  come  to  Mr. 
Freeman's,  I  would  answer  all  the  questions  that  they 
could  ask  me  from  California  to  Geneseo.  I  went  back 
with  Mr.  Freeman  ;  he  kept  with  me  and  in  order  to  sur 
prise  his  wife  he  called  her  out  as  he  sat  in  his  carriage, 
and  said,  "Sarah,  I  have  got  him  ;  I  found  him  up  town 
milking  his  cow.  "Why,  Warren  B.  Johnson,  is  that 
you?  can  it  be  you!  "Yes,  it  is;  you  look  as  you  did 
years  ago.  I  have  not  seen  you  since  leaving  Webster, 
twenty-eight  }7ears  ago.  It  is  that  length  of  time,  surely. 
Warren,  I  shall  weary  you  out,  having  so  many  questions 
to  ask  of  you,"  said  Mrs.  Freeman.  "I  can  stand  all  the 
questions  you  may  ask  ;  I  am  tough  and  hardy.  I  have 
not  seen  a  sick  day  since  I  left  California ;  no,  not  an 
hour,"  I  answered.  "Warren,  how  many  miles  have  yon 


312  GENESEO. 


travelled  since  you  left  Eureka  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Freeman. 
"I  have  travelled  about  three  thousand  miles;  I  think  it 
will  over-run  that  number."  "And  that  poor  cow  has 
come  all  that  distance?"  said  Mrs.  Freeman.  "Yes,  we 
all  have  come  that  distance,  and  we  are  good  for  the  re 
mainder  to  Massachusetts,"  I  answered.  "I  hope  you 
will  get  home  safe  and  sound,"  said  Mrs.  Freeman. 
" Sarah,  to-day  is  Saturday  and  to-morrow  will  be  Sun 
day.  I  want  to  have  a  good  wash-up.  I  do  not  care  to 
do  it  on  Sunday  and  will  put  it  off  till  Monday ;  how  is 
that,  Sarah?"  I  asked.  ''Warren,  what  are  your  inten 
tions,  I  would  like  to  know,  and  then  I  will  come  to 
time?"  she  answered.  "I  would  like  to  make  a  long  stay 
with  you,  but  that  will  not  do.  I  must  get  home  before 
winter  sets  in  ;  I  can  travel  if  it  is  cold,  if  the  snow  will 
only  keep  off ;  but  should  we  have  a  heavy  fall  of  snow, 
it  would  wind  up  my  travelling  for  a  while  at  least.  Sarah, 
I  would  like  to  leave  here  on  Monday,  but  perhaps  it  will 
be  best  to  stay  over  Monday  and  prepare  for  the  future, 
and  leave  you  Tuesday  morning  early." 

Mineral. — I  left  Mineral  on  the  morning  of  the  22nd, 
making  Wyanet  the  same  da}7.  This  town  is  situated  on 
the  Rock  Island  Railroad  and  in  the  county  of  Bureau. 

Wyanet. — I  left  Wyanet  on  the  morning  of  the  23rd, 
reaching  Princeton  the  same  day.  Wyanet  is  a  smart, 
active  business  town,  situated  on  the  Rock  Island  and 
Burlington  and  Quincy  Railroads. 

Princeton. — I  left  Princeton  on  the  morning  of  the  25th 
and  made  La  Salle  the  same  day.  Princeton  stands  cen 
tral  in  Bureau  county  and  is  the  county  town.  As  a 
town,  I  must  say,  it  stands  ahead  of  all  on  my  line  of 
travel.  It  is  beautifully  laid  out ;  her  streets  are  graded 
and  paved  with  the  best  of  material,  and  the  gutters  are 


JOLIET.  313 


tiled  with  the  best  of  tiling  pipes.  The  streets  on  either 
side  are  lined  with  the  finest  of  shade  trees  ;  this  makes 
the  town  look  grand  and  imposing.  She  has  two  railroads 
in  town,  but  it  is  a  mistake  that  they  are  so  far  from  its 
centre.  Having  a  friend  in  this  place,  formerly  from  the 
East,  I  stopped  with  him,  H.  A.  P.,  for  two  days. 

La  Salle. — I  left  La  Salle  on  the  morning  of  the  26th, 
making  Ottawa  the  same  day.  This  town  I  passed  after 
dark,  going  directly  through  the  town  and  into  camp,  not 
learning  anything  about  it. 

Ottawa. — I  left  Ottawa  on  the  morning  of  the  27th, 
making  Morris  the  same  day.  Ottawa  is  the  capital  of 
La  Salle  county.  It  is  one  of  the  largest  towns  I  have 
passed  through.  I  entered  the  town  on  Sunday  afternoon, 
Monday  was  a  rainy  day,  so  we  stayed  here  till  Tuesday 
morning. 

Morris. — On  the  morning  of  the  29th  I  left  Morris  and 
reached  Joliet  the  same  day.  Morris  is  the  capital  of 
Grundy  county,  and  is  situated  on  the  Rock  Island 
Railroad. 

Joliet. — This  town  I  left  on  the  morning  of  the  30th, 
reaching  Dyer  the  same  day.  Joliet  is  the  county  seat  of 
Wills  county ;  it  is  a  large  city,  boasting  a  population  of 
about  seventeen  thousand,  and  is  a  large  railroad  centre. 
Here  also,  are  located  the  State  prisons.  Just  before 
reaching  the  city  I  passed  a  granite  quarry  ;  this  was 
something  novel,  after  travelling  hundreds  of  miles  and 
not  a  stone  to  be  seen,  then  coming  to  a  quarry  of  fine 
granite,  it  was  worthy  of  note.  I  went  on  and  coming  to 
the  citj*,  I  passed  down  Main  street  until  coming  to  a  fruit 
store,  where  they  were  unloading  a  wagon  of  watermel 
ons.  I  stopped,  saying,  "What  is  the  price  of  those 


314  JOLIET. 


melons?"  "From  ten  to  twenty-five  cents  each,  accord 
ing  to  the  size,"  answered  the  proprietor.  "Here  is  one 
badly  broken,  what  is  the  price  of  that?"  I  asked.  ultis 
worth  twenty-five  cents,  but  you  may  have  it  for  ten 
cents.  If  I  mistake  not  you  are  the  California  man.  If  so, 
put  it  in  your  wagon  and  pick  the  best  one  you  can  find, 
and  put  that  also  in  your  wagon,"  said  the  proprietor. 
"I  think  you  are  well  posted  on  this  California  man,"  I 
replied.  "I  think  the  papers  ought  to  keep  us  posted  ;  it 
is  not  often  the}7  get  a  chance  to  post  people  on  that  sub 
ject.  Are  you  the  man  that  has  travelled  from  California 
to  this  place?  I  know  you  are,  without  asking  that  ques 
tion.  The  papers  say,  a  man  is  travelling  through  the 
State  from  California,  with  a  horse,  carriage,  cow  and 
a  little  dog,  en  route  to  Massachusetts.  You  seem  to 
represent  those  members  ;  if  you  had  not  a  cow,  I  would 
have  thought  you  were  not  the  man,  but  the  cow  is  the 
prompter."  "Well,  sir  ;  I  am  the  man,  there  is  no  other 
person  would  have  been  so  foolish,"  I  replied.  "There 
is  no  other  that  would  have  dared  to  be  so  foolish.  No, 
emphasize  the  word  dare  ;  there  is  nothing  foolish  about 
it.  Wh}',  sir,  you  have  a  chance  to  see  the  kingdoms  of 
this  world  and  the  kingdoms  of  the  other  world  we  know 
nothing  about.  Stranger,  go  inside,  perhaps  you  will  see 
something  you  would  like  on  your  journe}" ;  if  so,  take  it 
and  put  it  in  your  wagon  ;  you  shall  be  welcome  to  it," 
said  the  proprietor.  I  went  into  the  store  and  looked 
around,  I  saw  a  cheese  that  had  just  been  cut,  I  tasted  it 
and  found  it  was  just  to  my  liking.  I  said  to  the  pro 
prietor,  "You  have  a  fine  cheese,  I  know  nothing  that 
would  suit  better  than  some  of  that  cheese  and  crackers 
at  some  midnight  hour  when  on  my  travels."  The  pro 
prietor  took  the  knife  and  put  it  on  the  cheese.  I  moved 
the  knife  back  about  half  the  distance,  telling  him  to  cut 
it  there,  but  he  moved  it  a  little  further  on.  I  remarked 
that  "I  had  a  good  horse  ;  she  would  draw  it,  but  would 


JOLIET.  315 


not  care  to  eat  it."  I  took  the  cheese  and  a  small  bag  of 
crackers,  thanking  him  for  his  generosity  and  went  on  out 
of  the  city  about  a  half  mile.  Coming  to  a  fine  looking 
plat  of  grass  I  detached  the  horse  from  the  carriage,  re 
moved  her  harness,  turned  her  loose  and  the  cow  also.  I 
seated  myself  on  the  grass,  the  broken  melon  beside  me, 
and  went  into  it  right  smart.  I  sat  there  at  work  eating 
the  melon  and  on  looking  up  I  saw  a  man  opposite,  in  the 
road,  watching  me  steadily.  "Stranger,"  he  said,  "you 
seem  to  be  doing  well,  but  if  you  will  go  with  me  a  short 
distance,  to  the  top  of  yonder  hill,  I  will  do  better  by 
you."  "Sir,  can  you  do  better  to  my  cattle  than  they  are 
doing.  I  think  much  of  them,"  I  answered.  "Yes,  sir, 
I  can  give  you  a  grass  that  has  more  sweetness  than  that 
they  are  now  eating.  Stranger,  I  think  that  you  "are  the 
man  that  I  have  just  read  about  in  this  very  paper.  It 
speaks  of  a  man  that  has  travelled  from  California  thus 
far,  and  is  on  his  way  to  Massachusetts.  I  was  satisfied 
as  I  was  sitting  in  this  very  wagon  that  you  were  the  ver}r 
man."  "Yes,  sir;  I  am  the  man,"  I  answered.  "Now, 
stranger,  put  }rour  horse  in  your  wagon  and  come  up  to 
my  house,  we  will  entertain  3*011  the  best  we  know  how.  I 
don't  wonder  you  think  much  of  your  cattle,  coming  all 
the  distance  they  have.  Why,  sir,  if  that  horse  and  cow 
were  mine,  I  would  refuse  their  weight  in  gold  for  them." 
I  got  ready  and  went  with  him  to  his  house,  a  fine  man 
sion.  "Now,  stranger,  turn  your  cattle  loose  and  let 
them  romp  wherever  they  choose,  they  can  do  no  harm. 
Come  into  the  house,  it  is  our  tea-time,  your  cattle  are  do 
ing  well."  We  went  into  the  house,  he  introducing  me  to 
his  wife,  saying,  "This  man  is  from  California  with  yon 
der  horse  and  cow.  He  has  led  that  cow  in  the  rear  of  his 
wagon  all  that  long  distance.  Our  tea  is  ready,  take  a 
seat."  I  took  a  seat  at  the  table  and  while  eating  many 
where  the  questions  asked,  which  I  freely  answered,  from 
my  start  to  the  present  time.  "Stranger,"  said  my  host, 


316  VALPARAISO. 


"yonder  is  my  grain,  help  yourself  to  all  your  cattle  will 
eat ;  if  they  are  not  in  the  habit  of  eating  corn  be  careful 
not  to  give  them  too  much."  "What  is  a  ration  of  corn 
to  a  horse?"  I  asked.  "From  ten  to  eighteen  ears  is  a 
ration  of  corn  for  a  horse,"  he  replied.  "Friend,  on  the 
morrow,  I  will  leave  you  earty  ;  I  thank  }TOU  for  your  hos 
pitality  and  bid  you  good  night,"  I  said.  "Stranger,  you 
are  welcome  to  what  you  have  received  from  our  hands. 
Undoubtedly,  you  are,  and  probably  will  be  the  only  man 
of  the  kind  that  we  shall  have  the  chance  to  entertain. 
Good  night;  hope  you  will  have  a  good  night's  rest." 
"Thank  you,  good  night,"  and  I  retired. 

Dyer. — I  left  Dyer  on  the  morning  of  the  1st  of  Sep 
tember  and  made  Valparaiso  the  2nd.  Dyer  is  a  town  of 
small  note.  The  Michigan  Central  and  Louisville  Rail 
roads  form  a  junction.  The  Michigan  Central  comes 
through  here,  crossing  nine  trunk  roads  that  lead  to  Chic 
ago,  which  makes  what  is  known  as  the  Joliet  cut  off. 

Valparaiso. — I  left  Valparaiso  on  the  morning  of  the 
3rd,  making  Laporte  on  the  4th.  Valparaiso  is  the  capital 
of  Porter  county,  and  a  fine  town  of  about  five  thousand 
inhabitants.  Have  travelled  about  thirty  miles,  I  should 
have  made  it  in  the  distance  of  twenty-four.  Owing  to  deep, 
heavy  sand,  I  could  not  travel  more  than  four  to  six  rods 
before  I  had  to  stop,  such  hard  pulling  for  my  horse. 
My  average  travelling  has  been  two  and  a  half  miles  to 
the  hour,  but  these  two  days  it  has  only  been  one  and 
three-quarter  miles  to  the  hour.  I  continually  inquired 
how  long  before  I  would  get  rid  of  the  sand.  "Where 
are  you  travelling  to  ?"  they  asked.  "I  want  to  make 
Cleveland,  Ohio,"  I  would  answer.  "You  will  have  sand 
and  deep  sand  all  through  the  State.  The  nearer  the  lake 
the  more  sand  you  will  find.  I  think  you  had  better  go  to 
Laporte  and  from  there  to  South  Bend  ;  from  there  to  Elk- 


LAPORTE.  317 


hart,  then  to  White  Pigeon  and  so  on,"  said  my  adviser. 

Laporte. — I  left  Laporte  on  the  morning  of  the  5th  and 
made  South  Bend  on  the  6th.  Laporte  is  the  seat  of  La 
porte  county.  It  is  situated  in  the  centre  of  the  count}' ; 
several  railroads  enter  the  town.  Lake  Shore  and  Michi 
gan  Southern  are  the  most  prominent.  In  making  South 
Bend,  I  had  to  travel  thirty-six  miles.  I  would  travel  on 
one  road  a  while  and  coming  to  some  place,  then  they 
would  tell  me  to  take  a  certain  road,  where  I  should  meet 
with  less  sand  and  I  would  go  for  that  road.  Perhaps,  I 
would  travel  for  about  one  mile,  sometimes  tw>  miles. 
Here  I  will  state  for  the  information  of  my  readers  that  in 
the  Western  States,  the  Government  has  laid  out  the 
roads  one  mile  apart.  You  travel  as  it  were  by  the  com 
pass,  east,  west,  north  and  south,  no  less  angles  than 
squares.  There  are  roads  that  run  parallel  with  the  rail 
roads,  from  depot  to  depot,  which  roads  are  the  best 
every  time.  I  am  travelling  on  a  flat  surface.  Indiana 
is  not  Iowa  ;  I  wish  it  was.  Iowa  has  good  roads  and 
good  hills,  but  Indiana  has  the  sand  hills  such  as  no  other 
State  has.  So  far  it  is  the  poorest  State  for  soil  I  have 
travelled  through.  Ohio  I  know  nothing  about,  but 
should  I  succeed  in  reaching  that  State,  and  I  pray  that  I 
may,  I  will  know  what  I  don't  know  at  this  time. 

/South  Bend. — I  left  South  Bend  on  the  8th,  making 
Goshen  the  same  day.  This  town  is  the  county  seat  of 
St.  Joseph  county  ;  it  is  a  large,  noble  town,  I  will  call  it 
such,  but  I  think  it  is  a  city.  The  Lake  Shore  and  Michi 
gan  pass  through.  This  has  a  tendency  to  build  the  town 
up  rather  than  pull  it  down.  Here  I  found  many  warm 
friends. 

Goshen. — I  left  Goshen  on  the  morning  of  the  10th, 
making  Lagrange  on  the  llth.  Goshen  is  the  capital  of 


318  ANGOLA. 


Elkhart  county,  situated  in  the  centre  of  the  county.  It 
is  a  fine  town.  Last  night  was  the  first  frost  of  the  sea 
son.  On  making  Goshen  my  travelling  has  improved  and 
I  hope  it  will  continue. 

Lagrange. — I  left  this  place  on  the  morning  of  the  12th 
and  reached  Angola  on  the  13th.  Lagrange  is  the  county 
seat  of  the  same  name.  It  is  centrally  located  and  a  fine 
town,  but  does  not  come  up  to  others  I  have  passed 
through.  On  making  Lagrange,  my  road  has  been  very 
uneven ;  hills  and  vallej's  with  plenty  of  sand.  This 
variety  of  travel  wears  heavily  on  my  horse.  The  cow 
stands  it  remarkably  well,  but  the  horse  ;  oh,  how  I  pity 
her. 

Angola. — I  left  Angola  on  the  morning  of  the  14th, 
making  Bryan  the  same  day.  Angola  is  the  capital  of 
Steuben  county.  Its  location  is  central  of  the  county. 
It  has  a  fine  court-house,  this  was  in  the  best  part  of  the 
town  ;  but  its  surroundings  were  not  as  good  as  many  that 
I  have  passed  through.  On  my  arrival  I  found  the  place 
was  full  of  people  and  on  inquiring  the  cause,  I  found 
there  was  a  circus  in  town  that  day.  I  drove  along  to  a 
hotel,  in  rear  of  which  was  a  small  barn,  and  behind  that 
a  fine  plat  of  grass.  I  turned  my  cattle  loose  that  they 
might  eat  of  the  grass,  and  laid  myself  down  for  rest,  be 
ing  very  weary.  Soon  the  cow  laid  down,  but  I  thought 
nothing  of  this,  as  it  was  a  common  thing,  and  soon  after 
the  horse  also  laid  down.  This  was  a  surprise  to  me  ;  I 
never  saw  her  lie  down  in  the  day  time  before.  She 
must  have  been  very  tired.  Poor  horse !  I  began  to 
think,  and  in  my  mind  travelled  back  to  Dyer  station, 
over  again  the  long  distance  we  had  come — through  the 
long  sand-road,  up  hill  and  down,  first  on  one  side  and 
then  the  other  of  the  road,  in  the  ditch  and  out  trying  to 
find  something  solid  to  step  on.  She  would  stop  and  look 


MAUMEE  CITY.  319 


around  ;  then  I  would  tell  her  to  go  on,  which  she  would 
do  every  time,  without  any  hesitation ;  she  was  at  all 
times  ready  to  do  as  bidden.  She  must  have  rest  or  she 
would  take  it  in  another  form.  About  ten  o'clock  I  heard 
music  and  went  down  to  the  hotel  and  watched  the  circus 
procession  pass  down  the  street  on  their  parade  through 
the  town.  After  it  had  passed  I  returned  to  my  camp 
and  found  the  animals  still  tying  down.  I  did  not  dis 
turb  them.  I  spoke  to  them,  however,  but  they  made  no 
reply.  I  went  to  my  wagon  and  laid  down  again.  We 
were  all  most  worn  out  for  want  of  rest.  I  had  an  inter 
view  with  the  hotel  proprietor  and  related  my  travelling 
through  the  State  and  the  advice  given  me  to  keep  to  the 
north  instead  of  the  south  roads  where  I  should  find  less 
sand.  He  said,  "They  told  me  wrong,  and  that  they 
knew  nothing  about  the  roads.  Had  I  travelled  further 
south  I  should  have  had  much  less  sand.  On  crossing  the 
Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railroad,  you  should  have  followed 
the  road.  I  now  advise  you  to  go  from  here  to  Bryan  and 
then  follow  the  railroad.  One  day  more  will  take  }'ou  out 
of  the  sands.  When  in  Ohio  you  will  find  good  roads." 

Bryan. — I  left  Bryan  on  the  morning  of  the  16th  and 
made-  Wauseon  the  same  day.  Bryan  is  the  capital  of 
Williams  county.  It  is  a  fine  town,  situated  on  the  Lake 
Shore  and  Michigan  Southern  Railroad. 

Wauseon. — I  left  Wauseon  on  the  morning  of  the  17th 
and  reached  Maumee  city.  Wauseon  is  the  capital  of 
Fulton  and  is  situated  on  the  Lake  Shore  and  Michigan 
Southern  Railroad.  It  is  a  thriving  town. 

Maumee  City. — This  place  I  left  on  the  18th,  reaching 
Freemont  on  the  19th.  Maumee  city  is  but  a  small  town, 
situated  on  the  west  side  of  the  Maumee  river,  where  we 
cross  into  Perry  sburgh.  From  Perry  sburgh  to  Bellevue 


320  FREEMONT. 


is  one  of  the  best  roads  in  the  State  of  Ohio.       A  good 
macadamized  road. 

Freemont. — I  left  Freemont  on  the  20th,  making  Belle- 
vue  that  day.  Freemont  is  the  capital  of  Sandusky 
county.  It  is  a  fine,  large  town  of  ten  thousand  inhabit 
ants  and  a  great  town  for  business.  After  leaving  Free 
mont  my  first  stop  was  at  Ctyde,  where  we  took  dinner. 
As  I  sat  eating  my  dinner  I  saw  a  monument  on  my  left 
and  went  to  it.  It  was  a  square  block  of  very  fine 
Quincy  granite,  about  four  feet  at  its  base  and  three  feet 
at  the  top,  with  cut  corners.  On  the  top  of  this  block 
was  a  statue.  This  statue  was  of  Gen.  McPherson,  one 
of  the  most  noted  in  our  whole  army. 

Bellevue. — I  left  this  place  on  the  22nd,  making  Nor- 
walk  the  same  day.  Bellevue  is  more  than  an  ordinary 
town.  It  is  situated  on  a  junction  of  railroads  which 
makes  it  a  smart  thriving  town. 

Norwalk. — I  left  Norwalk  on  the  23rd,  making  Wake- 
man  the  same  day.  Norwalk  is  the  capital  of  Huron 
county.  It  is  one  of  the  high-toned  towns  in  the  State  ; 
its  aristocracy  stands  out  strong. 

Wakeman. — I  left  Wakeman  on  the  morning  of  the  24th, 
making  Elyria  the  same  day.  Wakeman  is  more  than 
an  ordinary  town.  It  is  situated  on  the  Michigan  South 
ern  Railroad.  My  stop  here  was  unexpected  and  was  on 
account  of  a  severe  thunder-storm. 

'Elyria. — I  left  Elyria  on  the  morning  of  the  25th, 
reaching  the  city  of  Cleveland  the  same  da}'.  Elyria  is 
the  county  seat  of  Lorian  county,  and  is  as  smart  a  town 
as  they  make  out  West.  It  is  not  a  large,  but  a  clean,  en 
terprising  town.  I  left  very  early  in  the  morning,  in 


CLEVELAND.  321 


order  to  make  Cleveland  the  same  day,  and  did ;  but  it 
was  a  smart  day's  travelling.  I  had  a  fine  road  which 
helped  me  much  in  making  it. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


FROM  CLEVELAND,  BUFFALO,  ALBANY,  TO  MARLOW. 
NEW  HAMPSHIRE. 

Resuming  my  journey  after  a  day's  rest,  I  left  the  city 
of  Cleveland  early  on  the  morning  of  the  27th  and  made 
Painesville  the  same  day.  Cleveland  is  the  largest  city  I 
have  passed  through  since  leaving  San  Francisco.  On 
leaving  the  city,  I  came  out  on  Superior  street ;  I  should 
have  taken  the  left  street,  b}T  doing  so  it  would  have  saved 
me  pulling  through  deep  sand  and  four  miles  of  travel. 
Leaving  so  early  as  I  did,  I  travelled  the  whole  length  of 
Superior  street  without  meeting  a  person.  I  made  Paines 
ville  late  in  the  evening. 

Painesville. — I  left  Painesville  on  the  morning  of  the 
28th,  making  Ashtabula  the  same  day.  It  is  the  seat  of 
Lake  county  and  a  first-class  town  ;  situated  on  the  Lake, 
and  has  two  railroads  passing  through,  the  St.  Louis 
and  Lake  Shore  and  Michigan  Southern. 

Ashtabula. — I  left  this  place  on  the  29th  and  made  North 
Kingsville.  Ashtabula  is  situated  on  the  lake,  but  unlike 
Painesville  is  not  a  county  town.  It  has  the  same  rail- 


322  AVONIA. 


roads,  but  still  does  not  come  up  to  Painesville  as  a  town, 
for  some  reason  I  know  not. 

North  Kingsville. — I  left  North  Kingsville  on  the  morn 
ing  of  the  30th  and  made  Avonia.  North  Kingsville  is 
simply  a  small  town,  like  many  other  towns  with  railroads. 
I  made  Avonia  in  haste,  being  driven  in  by  a  terrific 
thunder-storm,  with  copious  showers  of  rain,  hail  and  fire 
mingled.  I  succeeded  in  getting  under  cover  as  the  storm 
burst  upon  us.  Such  thunder  and  lightning  I  only  saw 
back  in  Nebraska.  Well,  I  got  out  of  the  hail  and  rain. 
I  expected  more,  but  thanks  be  to  God,  that  lightning  did 
not  hit  me  or  any  of  my  family.  When  a  streak  of  light 
ning  starts  from  a  cloud  one  mile  high,  coming  down  so 
quickly,  it  does  not  turn  to  the  right  or  left  to  hit  this  one 
or  that  one.  I  do  not  believe  in  the  doctrine  that  God 
intends  to  hit  one  person  in  particular  and  not  the  other. 
Well,  where  am  I  ?  In  Avonia,  under  a  shed  out  of  the 
storm.  The  storm  has  passed  and  gone  and  now  I  can't 
travel.  So  much  slipping  will  injure  my  horse,  so  I  must 
wait  awhile. 

Avonia. — I  left  Avonia  on  the  morning  of  October  1st, 
making  Erie  the  same  day.  Avonia  is  a  town  situated 
close  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Erie,  and  has  a  full  view  of 
the  Lake  for  many  miles.  I  am  now  travelling  on  a 
broad  road,  known  as  the  old  Erie  turnpike.  It  is  much 
worn  out.  This  road  after  a  smart  rain  will  hold  quanti 
ties  of  water,  and  the  water  of  yesterday's  rain  lays  deep 
on  the  road,  making  any  quantity  of  mud  to  go  through, 
and  it  is  of  that  consistency  that  would  make  fire-brick  ; 
3'ou  may  judge  how  my  boots  looked  about  this  time.  As 
I  was  about  entering  Erie  city,  I  saw  on  my  right  a 
splendid  field  of  grass.  I  was  undecided  whether  to  go 
on  and  enter  the  city  or  stop  here  ;  however,  I  went  into 
the  city,  but  after  entering  the  city  and  thinking  the  mat- 


THE  CAMP.  323 


ter  over,  I  decided  to  return  to  this  field  of  grass  and 
camp,  asking  no  permission  whatever.  After  my  cattle 
had  eaten  what  I  thought  essential,  I  brought  them  in  and 
gave  them  their  grain  and  secured  them  for  the  night, 
made  up  my  bed  and  laid  down  to  rest.  I  had  not  laid 
long  when  two  men  came  up  to  me  and  said,  "Stranger, 
are  you  not  trespassing  here?"  "Gentlemen,  I  think  I 
am.  I  have  become  so  accustomed  to  doing  so  on  my 
long  journey.  I  think  that  had  I  been  strictly  honest,  I 
should  not  have  been  so  far  on  my  journey  as  I  am  now," 
I  replied.  "Stranger,  what  am  I  to  understand  by  your 
being  on  a  journey?"  was  asked.  "I  will  explain,  I  have 
travelled  a  long  distance  ;  the  distance  is  as  long  as  from 
California  to  this  place,  about  four  thousand  miles. 
Strangers,  I  have  been  doing  about  as  my  mind  has  led 
me.  Coming  through  Nebraska,  I  would  let  my  cattle 
eat  the  grain  while  they  would  be  standing  in  the  road, 
with  two  wheels  of  my  wagon  in  the  growing  grain,  but 
the  cattle  were  not."  "Stranger,  a  man  was  passing  by 
you  and  saw  your  cattle  feeding  and  called  and  notified 
me  of  it,  so  we  came  down  here  to  see.  We  have  read 
in  the  papers  about  a  man  from  California,  travelling  East 
to  Massachusetts,  with  a  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog ; 
are  you  the  man?"  "I  am  the  man,"  I  answered. 
"Stranger,  if  you  will  go  with  me  I  will  give  your  cattle  a 
place  in  the  barn  and  all  the  hay  and  grain  you  wish  them 
to  have,  and  }*ourself  a  good  bed  in  the  house,"  they 
said.  "Gentlemen,  my  cattle  have  had  all  they  need  to 
night  ;  they  ate  heartily  on  grass,  and  then  I  gave  them  a 
feed  of  grain  an4  there  they  are  resting,  as  for  myself,  I 
would  as  soon  lie  on  this  ground,  and  sooner,  than  take 
a  bed.  Gentlemen,  I  thank  you  for  your  invitation, 
please  allow  me  to  remain  here  through  the  night,  to-mor 
row  I  shall  feel  so  much  better  than  if  I  had  taken  a  bed 
inside."  "We  have  no  objection  to  your  remaining  here 
over  night,  under  the  circumstances.  We  would  not 


324  ERIE  CITY. 


allow  any  one  to  turn  in  their  cattle  to  feed,  but  you  are 
welcome  to  stop  over  night."  "Thank  you,  gentlemen." 
uGood  night,  stranger."  "Good  night,  gentlemen." 

Erie  City. — On  the  morning  of  the  2nd  I  left  Erie  City, 
making  North  East  the  same  day.  Erie  City  is  situated 
on  the  Lake,  mid- way  of  Erie  county,  Pennsylvania.  It 
is  an  old  town  and  looks  old,  and  is  as  old  as  it  looks,  but 
has  little  enterprise.  It  has  a  very  fine  cemetery,  I  had 
occasion  to  pass  through  it. 

North  East.— The  morning  of  the  3rd  I  left  North  East 
and  reached  Brockton  the  same  day.  North  East  is  a 
town  situated  in  the  most  north-east  extremity  of  Erie 
county.  It  is  one  of  the  finest  towns  in  the  county  and 
has  two  railroads,  the  Lake  Shore  and  Michigan  Southern 
and  New  York  and  St.  Louis  Railroads. 

Brockton. — On  the  morning  of  the  4th  I  left  Brockton, 
making  Silver  Creek.  Brockton  is  situated  on  the  rail 
road  in  the  town  of  Portland  and  my  first  stopping  place 
in  New  York  State. 

Silver  Creek. — I  left  this  place  on  the  morning  of  the 
5th,  making  Lake  view  the  same  day.  Silver  Creek  is  a 
railroad  station  for  the  town  of  Hanover,  it  is  a  fine  vil 
lage  with  a  good  view  of  the  Lake. 

Lake  View. — I  left  this  place  on  the  morning  of  the 
6th,  reaching  Buffalo  the  same  day.  Lajse  View  is  a  rail 
road  station  in  the  town  of  Hamburgh.  It  is  a  very 
pretty  village,  situated  on  a  high  elevation  and  overlooks 
the  Lake  for  a  great  distance. 

Buffalo. — On  the  morning  of  the  7th,  about  six  o'clock, 
we  entered  the  city  of  Buffalo,  near  the  Lake,  this  being 


BUFFALO.  325 


the  most  northern  part  of  the  city.  We  travelled  directly 
through  Genesee  street  to  the  New  York  Central  Rail 
road,  where  we  stopped  some  three  hours.  I  really  saw 
but  little  of  the  city,  which  is  the  largest  I  have  entered 
since  leaving  San  Francisco.  On  my  leftj  about  sixty 
rods  distant,  were  many  people  standing.  While  eating 
our  breakfast  they  learned  that  the  man  from  California 
had  arrived  with  his  outfit,  the  people  came  around  us 
by  the  hundreds  and  completely  surrounded  us.  I  did  not 
attempt  to  retreat,  in  fact  I  could  not ;  I  was  their  cap 
tive.  The  people  were  quite  familiar  in  asking  questions, 
some  of  which  were  difficult  to  answer.  After  a  while  a 
squad  of  policemen  arrived,  and  one  of  their  number 
came  to  me  and  said,  "Old  man,  what  are  you  here  for?" 
This  you  see  was  a  question  for  authority.  "Sir,  your 
honor  ;  I  am  simply  passing  through  your  city,  and  merely 
stopped  to  get  breakfast,  I  will  soon  move  on,"  I  an 
swered.  "Move  on  at  once,  or  we  will  take  you  up 
town,"  said  the  officer.  "Oh,  don't  detain  me.  I  am 
anxious  to  get  home  to  vote  for  old  Ben  Butler,"  I  said. 
When  I  was  about  leaving,  I  remarked  to  the  people, 
"Gentlemen,  I  am  simply  passing  through  this  extreme 
part  of  your  city  quietty,  and  have  had  no  disturbance  as 
yet,  nor  do  I  fear  any.  I  have  come  a  long  distance, 
about  four  thousand  miles,  and  no  where  have  I  received 
such  an  ovation  as  this."  Many  questions  were  asked  and 
answered  satisfactorily  and  when  I  was  about  to  move  on, 
two  men  came  up  to  my  wagon  with  a  basket  and  said, 
"Stranger,  take  this  basket  and  when  you  get  a  short  dis 
tance,  look  in  and  help  yourself."  "Thank  you,"  I  re 
plied  and  went  on.  As  I  was  moving  along,  three  cheers 
were  given  for  the  man  travelling  from  California  to 
Massachusetts.  I  left  Buffalo  at  twelve  at  noon  on  my 
way  to  Alban}*,  travelling  the  old  Genesee  turnpike,  and 
made  Batavia  at  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  8th. 


326  GENEVA. 


Batavia. — I  left  Batavia  at  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
of  the  8th,  reaching  Le  Roy  the  same  day.  Batavia  is 
the  capital  of  Genesee  county.  It  is  situated  on  the  New 
York  Central  Railroad.  To  its  left  is  the  city  of  Roches 
ter.  Here  the  New  York  Central  with  its  four  tracks, 
leaves  Batavia  to  the  left.  Two  of  the  tracks  run  due 
east  to  Syracuse. 

Le  Roy. — I  left  Le  Roy  on  the  morning  of  the  9th  and 
made  Avon  the  same  day.  Le  Roy  is  situated  on  the 
railroad  in  Geneseo  county.  It  is  a  smart,  active  business 
town. 

Avon. — I  left  this  place  on  the  morning  of  the  10th  and 
made  Canandaigua  the  same  day.  Avon  is  situated  on  a 
junction  of  railroads  in  the  county  of  Livingston. 

Canandaigua. — I  left  this  place  on  the  morning  of  the 
llth,  making  Geneva  the  same  day.  Canandaigua  is  the 
principal  town  in  Ontario  county. 

Geneva. — I  left  Geneva  on  the  morning  of  the  12th  and 
made  Seneca  Falls  the  same  day.  Geneva  is  situated  on 
the  railroad  and  on  the  northern  part  of  Seneca  Lake. 
Soon  after  leaving  this  place  it  began  to  rain  lightly.  I 
continued  on  and  found  it  improved  my  road,  it  being  a 
deep,  heavy  sand.  I  passed  directly  through  the  town 
of  Waterloo.  The  rain  kept  increasing,  my  travelling 
was  becoming  heav}*,  and  coming  to  a  fine-looking  barn  I 
turned  in.  As  I  did  so,  I  met  two  young  men  to  whom  I 
said,  " Gentlemen,  I  am  a  traveller,  and  have  become 
quite  noted  in  this  department.  I  have  travelled  from 
Geneva  through  this  ram  ;  my  horse  is  very  weary  and  so 
am  I.  I  should  like  to  get  under  cover  for  the  night." 
UI  think  you  must  be  the  man  the  papers  speak  of,  who 
is  with  a  horse,  wagon,  cow  and  dog  from  California,  go- 


GENEVA.  327 


ing  East  to  Massachusetts  ;  are  you  the  man  ?"  asked  the 
stranger.  "I  am  the  man/'  I  answered.  "Lead  your 
horse  in  the  barn  and  stay  till  the  rain  stops.  I  want  to 
ask  you  a  few  questions,"  said  the  stranger.  I  drove  in 
the  barn,  removed  the  horse  from  the  wagon  and  the  cow 
also,  making  all  right  for  the  night.  "Stranger,  our  sup 
per  is  about  ready,  we  will  go  in  and  see."  We  went  to  the 
house  the  3Toiing  man  introducing  me  to  his  father  and 
mother,  as  the  traveller  from  California  they  had  read 
about  in  the  papers,  he  telling  me  to  take  a  seat,  and  say 
ing,  "Mother,  give  the  stranger  a  good  dish  of  tea,  we 
will  say  nothing  about  the  rest."  "Is  it  possible  you 
have  come  from  California  with  that  horse  and  cow?" 
asked  the  father.  "I  suppose  3rou  have  seen  all  that  we 
read  about,  coming  across  the  plains  ;  the  wild  beasts,  the 
Indians,  the  Mormons,  the  tramps,  the  cow-boys,  and  I 
know  not  what?"  "I  have  seen  all  you  have  spoken  of, 
but  there  is  one  I  have  not  seen,  that  is  the  elephant ;  he 
1  saw  not.  But  the  Mormons,  the  tramps  and  the  cow 
boys,  I  became  very  familiar  with,  especially  the  Mormons, 
with  whom  I  was  eight  months.  You  will  be  sur 
prised  when  you  learn  what  I  know  about  them."  "Well, 
friend,  we  will  go  to  the  barn  and  see  how  the  California 
cow  is,  and  learn  if  she  is  in  want  of  anything  in  our 
line."  We  went  to  the  barn,  giving  the  cattle  more  hay 
and  grain,  then  returned  to  the  house  and  retired  for  the 
night.  "Friend,  stranger,  before  retiring,  allow  me  to  say 
a  word  ;  Massachusetts  is  having  a  very  warm  time  at  the 
coming  election  for  Governor,  I  have  interest  in  that  mat 
ter,  having  the  right  to  vote  on  my  arrival  home.'' 
"What  town  in  Massachusetts  is  your  home?"  he  asked. 
"The  town  of  Webster  is  my  home.  Now,  sir,  I  have 
quite  a  walk  to  get  home  in  time  to  vote.  I  suggest  that 
3*ou  get  me  away  in  the  morning  as  early  as  you  can. 
But  I  do  not  want  to  go  before  I  get  my  breakfast,  you 
understand.  I  am  a  Yankee,  every  time  ;  please  excuse 


328  ONEIDA. 


me."  "I  see  you  are  a  Yankee.  I  question  whether  there 
is  another  man,  Yankee  or  Yorker,  like  you.  You  have 
done  that  which  would  trouble  the  boys  to  do.  Well,  we 
must  go  to  bed  or  we  shall  not  get  up  early  in  the 
morning." 

On  the  morning  of  the  13th  I  was  up  early,  prospect 
ing.  I  decided  to  stop  over  the  day  as  it  was  not  safe  to 
travel,  it  being  so  slippery  it  would  wrench  my  cattle.  I 
was  cordially  welcomed  to  stay  at  will  and  thought  it  best 
to  stop  over  the  day. 

Auburn. — On  the  morning  of  the  14th  I  thought  it  best 
to  travel  and  make  Auburn  if  possible.  I  went  on  and 
found  it  to  be  a  hard  day's  labor. 

Syracuse. — On  the  morning  of  the  15th,  about  six 
o'clock  I  left  Auburn  for  Syracuse,  where  I  arrived  about 
midnight.  I  drove  under  a  shed,  giving  my  cattle  water 
and  grain,  spreading  my  blankets  on  the  ground,  laid  my 
self  down,  soon  dropping  asleep. 

Oneida. — I  left  Syracuse  on  the  morning  of  the  16th, 
making  Oneida  the  same  day.  On  making  East  Syracuse 
we  were  invited  to  take  dinner  by  the  proprietor  of  the 
hotel ;  such  invitations  we  never  decline.  After  dinner 
we  went  on,  crossing  the  railroad  and  continuing  about 
two  miles,  crossing  the  canal.  We  are  now  on  the  right 
of  both  canal  and  railroad.  The  day  having  passed  and 
gone,  I  concluded  to  travel  some  time  in  the  night  and 
about  ten  o'clock  camped.  I  was  uncommon^'  sleepy,  so 
much  so  that  I  was  compelled  to  lie  down  and  I  at  once 
fell  asleep,  but  not  for  long.  I  was  awakened  by  my  little 
dog.  The  dog  was  with  me  under  the  blankets.  A  man 
in  passing,  being  more  or  less  drunk,  came  along  to  my 
cow,  which  was  lying  down  and  gave  her  a  hard  kick  with 


ONEIDA.  329 


his  boots.  At  once  the  cow  got  up  and  went  as  near  the 
horse  as  she  could  get,  and  at  the  same  time  the  dog 
bounced  out  of  bed  and  went  for  the  man.  The  man's 
attention  was  now  with  the  dog.  I  was  still  lying  in  bed. 
The  man  was  looking  for  something  to  slay  the  dog.  I 
told  him  to  go  on  and  let  the  dog  alone.  Then  he  came 
to  me  where  I  was  lying  and  said,  "Who  in  h — 1  are  you  ; 
get  up  or  I  will  blow  your  d — d  brains  out."  I  was  up  in 
no  time,  you  bet,  and  quickly  went  to  my  wagon,  having 
a  hand-axe  where  I  could  have  easy  access  to  it  at  such  a 
time  as  this.  The  man  was  too  drunk  to  fear  the  axe.  I 
did  not  want  to  strike  him,  as  I  might  have  killed  him  on 
the  spot.  I  retreated  and  at  the  same  time  called  out, 
"Murder."  Nearly  opposite  was  a  house.  The  man  had 
been  awakened  by  my  cry  and  soon  had  a  light.  I 
retreated  towards  the  house  and  called  on  the  man  to 
come  out ;  he  knew  the  man  and  commenced  talking  to 
him.  While  they  were  talking  I  went  for  my  wagon  cut 
ting  the  halter,  not  stopping  to  untie  it  and  went  on.  I 
continually  looked  back,  expecting  the  man  to  follow  me. 
I  think  I  got  out  of  this  well.  On  my  arrival  in  Utica  I 
related  this  incident.  One  man  in  the  crowd  said,  "Why 
didn't  yon  split  his  d — d  head  open.  I  would  have  done 
it."  I  remarked,  "Had  I  struck  the  man  I  might  have 
killed  him,  which  would  have  detained  me,  and  I  should 
have  gone  and  complained  of  myself,  then  a  coroner's  in 
quest  would  have  to  be  called.  I  should  have  been 
detained  and  I  would  not  have  been  here  to-day,  perhaps 
not  for  several  days,  and  more,  I  would  not  reach  Massa 
chusetts  by  election  day  so  that  I  could  vote  for  grand, 
old  Ben  Butler  ;  so  friends,  really  my  way  was  the  best." 
"Yes,  you  are  right ;  but  there  is  no  other  man  left  like 
you.  I  don't  think  there  is  another  man  living  that  would 
have  done  as  you  have  done." 

Utica. — I  left  Oneida  for  Utica  on  the  17th,  making  the 


330  UTICA. 


city  limits  and  went  into  camp  in  front  of  a  fine  residence. 
About  midnight  it  commenced  raining.  I  packed  my 
bedding  that  it  might  not  get  wet  and  remained  awhile, 
hoping  it  would  stop  raining,  instead  of  that  it  kept  in 
creasing.  I  thought  it  best  to  go  into  the  city  and  get 
under  cover.  I  got  ready  and  went  on,  not  knowing  the 
time.  Coming  in  sight  of  a  long  row  of  gas  lights  we 
journeyed  on,  turning  to  my  left,  going  further  some 
twenty  rods,  turning  to  my  right.  It  was  raining  quite 
smart.  I  came  to  a  stop  as  I  could  see  no  one  except  my 
own  family.  While  standing  I  saw  one  man  ;  he  was  out 
of  the  rain  of  course.  I  was  sure  he  must  be  a  police 
man.  The  old  proverb  is,  "They  don't  know  enough  to 
get  under  cover  when  it  rains."  This  was  an  exception  ; 
he  was  under  cover  and  proved  to  be  a  watchman.  I  went 
up  to  him  leaving  my  horse  ;  but  mind  3*011  the  horse  would 
not  be  left,  she  followed  me,  making  a  turn  and  coming 
up  to  me.  As  I  approached  the  watchman  he  came  out 
and  met  me.  "You  are  a  watchman?"  said  I.  "Yes, 
sir,  I  am  a  watchman,  and  have  been  watching  you  for 
some  time."  "You  have,  I  have  been  looking  for  a 
watchman  for  information.  You  are  the  first  and  the  last 
man  I  have  seen  since  I  entered  the  city.  It  commenced 
raining  and  I  thought  it  best  to  make  the  city  and  get 
under  cover,  I  am  a  stranger,  will  you  direct  me  to 
where  I  can  get  out  of  the  storm."  "Yes,  sir  ;  keep  on 
down  this  street,  turn  to  your  right  and  you  will  come  to 
the  Mansion  stables."  I  went  on  and  came  to  a  street, 
but  did  not  know  whether  it  would  take  me  to  the  stables 
or  not ;  I  turned  down  it,  however,  and  soon  came  to  the 
stables.  I  went  to  the  door  and  rang  the  bell,  and  s  ion 
we  were  admitted  to  a  good  house  for  a  stormy  night. 
The  cattle  were  well  cared  for,  and  nryself  and  the  dog 
took  the  hay-mow  and  had  very  comfortable  lodgings.  In 
the  morning  I  went  to  the  Mansion  House  and  called  for 
the  proprietor.  I  said  to  him,  "I  came  to  the  city  early 


TJTICA.  331 

this  morning  in  the  rain.  I  am  a  traveller,  but  not  a 
tramp,  a  common  tramp  at  least.  I  have  come  a  long 
distance  with  a  horse,  carriage  and  a  cow.  My  horse  is 
a  fine  Morgan,  a  native  of  Massachusetts  ;  my  cow  is  an 
Ayrshire  and  Jersey,  a  native  of  California,  and  a  fine 
cow  ;  both  are  in  your  stables.  My  cow  needs  milking, 
please  come  and  look  at  them."  "I  will,  sir,  with 
pleasure.  You  are  evidently  the  man  the  papers  tell 
about,  who  is  with  a  horse  and  carriage,  leading  a  cow 
from  California,  going  to  Massachusetts  ;  are  you  the 
man?"  I  told  him  I  was  and  we  went  to  the  stable.  "If 
the  papers  t  ;ld  the  truth,  and  I  have  no  doubt  they  did, 
that  horse  and  cow  have  walked  more  than  four  thousand 
miles.  Can  that  be  true  ?  It  is  a  big  story,  but  a  bigger 
thing  to  accomplish.  Well,  stranger,  take  good  care  of 
your  cattle  ;  milk  the  cow,  I  will  put  it  on  ice  and  test  it 
in  our  coffee.  Perhaps  I  can  trade  for  her,  how  is  that, 
stranger?"  "I  will  milk  the  cow  and  test  the  milk  with 
other  fixings,"  I  answered.  This  being  done  it  was  de 
cided  that  I  had  a  remarkable  cow.  The  rumor  went 
arcund  that  the  man  from  California,  with  his  horse,  car 
riage,  cow  and  dog  were  at  the  Mansion  House.  A  large 
crowd  soon  gathered  around  and  many  questions  were 
asked  on  one  side  and  answered  by  the  other. 

About  midnight,  of  the  morning  of  the  19th  I  left 
Utica,  crossing  the  canal,  river  and  railroad.  I  am  still 
on  the  old  Genesee  road  ;  canal,  river  and  railroad  on  my 
right.  I  was  advised  to  continue  on  the  same  road  that  I 
had  been  travelling,  although  the  south  road  was  the 
river  road  and  the  most  level,  but  I  would  find  more  mud 
at  this  time.  My  first  four  miles  was  deep  sand,  but  the 
rain  had  made  the  sand  quite  hard,  which  made  it  more 
comfortable  travelling.  Further  on  I  found  clay  ;  this 
clay  soil  is  very  disagreeable,  causing  continual  slipping 
when  wet.  About  seven  o'clock  we  made  Herkemer,  here 


332  THE  RANCHE. 


we  took  breakfast.  After  breakfast  we  journeyed  to 
Little  Falls,  where  we  made  a  short  stop  and  then  went 
on  ;  after  a  time  coming  to  a  fine-looking  ranche.  Here 
I  concluded  to  stop  for  the  night,  if  I  could  be  permitted 
to  use  part  of  a  shed.  By  simply  removing  a  wagon  I 
could  have  good  accommodation  for  the  night.  I  went  to 
the  house  and  rang  the  bell,  which  was  answered  by  a  fine- 
looking  young  lady,  to  whom  I  said,  "Madam,  I  am  a 
traveller  and  have  come  a  very  long  distance  and  still  have 
not  reached  my  home."  "Where  is  your  home?"  she 
asked.  "Massachusetts  is  my  home,"  I  replied.  "You 
say  you  have  come  a  long  distance,  where  have  3-011  come 
from?"  asked  the  lady.  "From  California,  madam,"  I 
replied.  "I  have  just  read  in  the  papers  of  a  man  arriv 
ing  in  Utica  from  California,  with  his  horse  and  carriage, 
leading  a  cow  all  that  distance,  are  you  the  man?"  asked 
the  lady.  "I  am,  and  have  come  from  Utica  this  day. 
I  left  about  midnight  this  morning."  "You  have  come 
from  there  to-day  ?  Mother,  this  is  the  man  that  I  was 
reading  about  in  the  paper ;  he  has  travelled  from  Utica 
to-day.  Where  is  your  horse  and  cow,  I  would  like  to 
look  at  them?"  said  the  lady.  "They  are  at  the  shed,"  I 
replied.  Mother,  daughter  and  a  neighbor,  who  was  in 
vited  by  the  young  lady,  all  went  to  see  the  California 
cow.  "Stranger,  take  your  horse  out  of  the  carriage  and 
put  her  and  the  cow  in  the  barn.  You  are  not  going  to 
sleep  in  the  shed  to-night,"  said  the  lady.  "Madam,  I 
prefer  to  sleep  with  my  cattle.  I  have  done  so  with  two 
exceptions ;  I  am  dirty  and  not  fit  to  get  into  a  clean 
bed,"  I  replied.  "My  dear  sir,  water  and  a  little  soap 
will  soon  make  them  clean.  I  really  wish  that  you  would 
comply  with  my  request,"  she  answered.  "If  3rou  insist 
I  will  comply  with  your  wish."  "I  do,  my  brother  will  be 
home  soon,  he  will  look  after  your  cattle.  Father  I  have 
none  ;  we  buried  him  some  three  months  ago.  Oh,  that 
he  were  living,  he  would  dearly  love  to  entertain  you. 


THE  RANCHB.  333 


What  a  loss  we  have  sustained.  Dear  Father.  Stranger, 
the  papers  say  that  }rour  name  is  Johnson,  W.  B.,"  said 
the  lady.  "That  is  my  name  ;  I  have  but  one."  "Stran 
ger,  our  supper  is  ready,  I  hope  you  will  not  decline  to 
take  tea  with  us?"  she  said.  "Why  should  I  decline 
this?"  I  replied.  "I  did  not  know  but  that  you  would  like 
to  be  excused  from  coming  to  the  table,  as  you  look  as  if 
you  had  seen  some  mud,  travelling  the  long  distance," 
said  the  lady.  Soon  after,  the  brother  came  home  and  the 
young  lady  said  to  him,  "William,  this  stranger  is  the 
California  man,  that  we  have  read  of  in  the  papers.  He 
came  in  to  see  if  we  would  allow  him  to  stop  under  the 
carriage  shed  for  the  night.  I  told  him  that  we  would 
do  better  with  him  and  give  him  a  clean  bed  inside.  He 
seemed  to  discard  this  invitation,  preferring  rather  to 
sleep  with  his  cattle."  After  tea  I  said,  "My  dear 
friends,  about  sleeping  with  my  cattle ;  I  think  much  of 
them  and  they  of  me,  I  am  sure  of  it.  I  will  go  back 
four  thousand  miles,  having  travelled  that  distance  al 
ready.  When  I  left  California,  I  left  behind  me  all  the 
family  I  ever  had  ;  wife  and  one  daughter,  who  are  still 
living.  They  were  opposed  to  my  coming  the  way  I  have 
come.  They  told  me  all  they  could  and  got  others  to 
dissuade  me  from  my  project.  They  said  I  whould  be 
confronted  with  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forests  ;  the  Indians  ; 
the  cow-boys  ;  the  tramps  ;  and  last,  but  worst  of  all,  the 
Mormons.  All  of  these  I  should  have  to  contend  with. 
I  have  had  to  do  so,  but  not  one  insult  have  I  received 
from  any  of  them,  with  one  exception,  leaving  out  the 
wild  animals.  This  exception  was  near  Oneida,  by  a  man 
too  drunk  to  know  what  he  was  doing  ;  this  was  the  first 
and  the  last.  Many  times  I  have  been  told  to  look  sharp 
after  my  cattle,  which  I  have  done.  Many  nights  I  have 
slept  between  them  ;  the  horse  fastened  to  one  wheel  and 
the  cow  to  another.  While  in  Cheyenne  I  fell  in  with  a 
comrade  of  the  Grand  Army,  who  invited  me  to  stay  with 


334  THE  RANCHE. 


him  while  in  the  city.  He  remarked  that  t  must  look 
sharp  after  the  cattle  at  nights,  especially  my  horse,  the 
cow  he  thought  no  one  would  attempt  to  take.  The 
horse  was  a  strong  temptation  for  the  cow-boys.  Most 
of  my  way  through  Nebraska  I  was  filled  with  continual 
fear,  lest  I  should  be  overtaken  by  some  one  or  more  that 
would  want  the  horse  or  trade  for  her.  I  have  passed 
such  and  met  them  at  the  stations,  but  no  insult  whatever 
have  I  received  from  them.  Well,  friends,  it  is  past  my 
bed  time.  If  you  insist  on  my  sleeping  inside,  I  will  go 
to  the  barn  and  see  if  the  cattle  are  all  right  and  then  re 
turn  and  retire,  as  I  would  like  to  get  a  good  night's  rest. 
I  am  strongly  inclined  to  think  that  a  bed  under  the  shed 
would  make  a  better  night's  rest  than  one  inside.  We 
will  try  it  on  ;  it  is  the  only  way  to  test  the  pudding  by 
eating."  "What  time  will  you  leave  in  the  morning?" 
asked  the  young  lady.  "About  six  o'clock,"  I  answered. 

St.  Johnsville. — I  left  the  ranche  near  St.  Johnsville 
on  the  20th,  making  Johnstown  the  same  day.  I  arose 
early  and  got  ready  to  leave,  and  as  soon  as  the  breakfast 
was  ready,  I  was  ready  for  it.  Our  breakfast  consisted 
of  fresh  fried  pork  and  sausage,  hot  potatoes,  hot  biscuits 
and  coffee,  all  well-cooked,  topping  off  with  cranberry 
sauce  and  mince  pie.  This  with  its  surroundings,  was 
the  best  breakfast  I  had  from  California  to  Massachusetts. 
I  did  ample  justice  to  the  meal.  After  breakfast,  and  as 
I  was  about  to  leave,  the  lady  came  out  to  me  at  my  car 
riage  with  a  bundle,  saying,  "I  would  like  you  t  >  take  this 
with  you  ;  it  is  simply  a  lunch,  you  may  get  faint  on  }rour 
way.  Take,  eat,  and  remember  us  all ;  we  will  ever  re 
member  you,  the  man  that  travelled  across  the  continent." 
I  well  knew  its  contents,  and  on  parting  I  remarked, 
"Dear  friends,  your  hospitality  exceeds  all  others  on  my 
journey ;  particularly  the  way  it  has  been  given,  with 
sympathy,  love  and  affection.  Oh,  that  I  could  do  some- 


ST.  JOHNSVILLE.  335 


thing  in  return  ;  but  I  must  leave  you.  Good  morning." 
"Good  morning,  we  hope  }'ou  will  succeed  and  arrive 
safely  at  your  journey's  end.  Should  you  ever  be  per 
mitted  to  come  this  way  again,  please  be  sure  to  call  on 
us,"  said  the  lady.  "I  will,  thank  }'ou,  good-bye."  I  re 
luctantly  left  them  and  went  on  my  journey.  About 
twelve  we  stopped  for  dinner.  Here  I  broke  the  seal  of 
the  bundle  ;  its  contents  were  cold  meats,  like  our  break 
fast,  a  mince  pie  and  some  doughnuts  and  cheese ;  a  good 
dinner  was  the  result.  I  thought  much  of  it,  but  much 
more  of  those  from  whom  it  came.  At  one  o'clock  we 
again  moved  forward  and  at  five  o'clock  we  reached  a  fine 
looking  farm-house  and  barn.  I  thought  it  best  to  stop 
here  for  the  night.  I  went  to  the  house  for  a  permit  to 
use  the  shed  for  my  cattle.  Just  as  I  was  going  to  ring 
the  bell  a  man  came  in  sight,  I  asked  him  if  he  was  the 
master  of  the  ranche?  He  answered  he  was.  "What 
will  you  have?"  "I  would  like  to  use  your  shed  for  the 
night.  It  is  going  to  be  a  cold,  frosty  night  and  I  would 
like  to  get  under  cover,  I  have  not  been  under  cover,  ex 
cept  two  nights,  for  months.  Some  nights  I  have  been  so 
cold  that  I  could  not  sleep  and  then  travelled  the  rest  of 
the  night  to  keep  warm."  "Where  have  you  come  from 
and  where  going,  to  be  travelling  for  months?"  he  asked- 
"Well,  sir,'  I  have  but  one  story  to  tell  and  I  have  told  it 
many  times,  twice  in  a  day,  and  some  times  I  have  seen 
no  one  to  tell  it  to,"  I  replied.  "I  think  I  know  who  you 
are,  through  the  papers.  They  say  that  a  man  from  Cali 
fornia  is  travelling  to  Massachusetts,  with  a  horse,  car 
riage,  cow  and  dog.  Are  you  the  man  that  is  doing  such 
a  wonderful  thing?"  "I  am  the  man,"  I  replied.  "Well, 
well,  I  want  to  see  what  you  have  got  for  a  horse  and  cow 
that  have  travelled  all  that  distance,  stranger,"  he  said. 
"They  are  at  your  shed,"  I  replied.  "And  you  have 
travelled  from  California  with  that  horse  and  cow  ?  Take 
your  horse  and  lead  her  inside,  and  the  cow  too.  They 


336  ST.    JOHNSVILLE. 


shall  have  a  good  bed  to-night.  Will  your  cow  stand  be 
side  the  horse?"  he  asked.  "She  will."  "She  won't  in 
jure  the  horse,  think  you?"  he  asked.  "Oh,  no,  they  think 
much  of  each  other,"  I  replied.  "We  will  go  into  the 
house,  our  supper  will  be  ready  soon ;  I  suppose  you 
won't  decline  to  take  a  bed  inside?"  "Oh,  no,  last  night 
I  was  well  cared  for ;  I  think  the  best  on  my  whole 
journey,"  I  said.  As  we  were  sitting  around  the  stove, 
the  man  took  up  the  newspaper  and  said,  "Your  name  is 
Johnson  it  seems,  that  is  what  the  paper  says.  This  is  a 
Utica  paper,  and  it  speaks  of  a  man  by  the  name  of  W. 
B.  Johnson,  from  California  to  Massachusetts,  as  having 
passed  through  that  city  ;  you  are  the  man.  Mr.  John 
son,  take  a.  seat  at  the  table  and  make  yourself  at  home  ;  I 
suppose  you  have  one  or  you  would  not  look  as  well  as 
you  do."  I  took  the  seat  and  answered,  "I  have  not 
been  sick  a  day  since  leaving  California ;  no,  not  an  hour. 
I  have  seen  some  hard  times  in  crossing  the  Rocky  Moun 
tains.  I  was  out  on  the  plains  in -a  bad  snow  storm,  that 
made  me  think  of  home,  you  bet."  "What  time  was  that 
storm?"  he  asked.  "It  was  the  5th  and  6th  of  June 
last."  "How  much  of  a  snow-fall?"  "The  snow  fell  from 
eight  to  twelve  inches  on  the  level.  It  commenced  rain 
ing  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  turning  to  hail, 
from  hail  to  snow  and  continued  all  night.  I  was  alone 
with  my  cattle  and  was  very  cold.  I  brushed  the  snow 
away  on  the  ground,  then  I  poured  kerosene  oil  on  the 
ground  and  set  it  en  fire.  This  kept  my  hands  from 
freezing.  This  I  did  at  intervals  until  I  had  consumed 
nearly  two  quarts  of  oil.  My  feet  became  very  cold,  I 
could  not  get  them  warm.  I  went  to  my  wagon  and  took 
from  it  an  old  blanket,  putting  it  over  the  ground  where  I 
had  been  burning  the  oil,  I  took  off  my  boots  and  stood 
on  this  blanket.  It  was  not  long  before  I  began  to  feel 
the  warmth  and  my  feet  soon  became  comfortable." 


SCHENECTADY.  337 


Schenectady \ — I  left  the  ranche,  near  Fonda,  and  the 
pleasant  family  connected  with  it  on  the  21st,  reaching 
Schenectady  early  on  the  morning  of  the  22nd.  On  the 
morning  of  the  21st  I  was  up  early,  getting  ready  to  move 
on.  Soon  after  the  breakfast  bell  rang,  the  gentleman  of 
the  house  came  out  to  me  and  said,  "Good  morning, 
stranger."  uGood  morning,"  I  replied.  "You  are 
driving  things,  it  seems,  }"ou  are  going  to  get  home  to  vote 
for  old  B.  F.,  I  suppose,  or  some  one  else?"  "Yes,  sir ; 
that  is  my  intention."  "Have  3'ou  fed  that  California 
cow;  she  is  all  right,  I  suppose?"  said  my  host.  "She 
is."  "Our  breakfast  is  ready.  I  suppose  you  are  ready 
and  waiting?"  he  said.  "I  am,  sir  ;  I  could  have  taken 
breakfast  in  Amsterdam,  but  I  thought  you  might  never 
forget  me,  you  might  forgive."  "Yes,  I  could  readily 
forgive  }TOU,  but  I  should  not  be  likely  to  forget  you,  for 
a  time  at  least."  "Friend  stranger,  I  do  not  wish  to 
insult  you  by  offering  to  pay  for  your  hospitality,"  I  said. 
"No,  sir,  you  had  better  not ;  that  would  be  an  insult  and 
a  crime.  I  would  not  be  guilty  of  taking  one  cent  from 
you,  not  a  cent ;  I  would  like  to  have  you  stop  longer.  I 
have  been  much  interested  in  listening  to  your  travels 
across  the  plains,"  said  my  host.  "My  friend,  I  must 
leave  you,  and  thank  you  kindly  for  your  hospitality,"  I 
said.  "You  are  welcome,  sir  ;  I  would  like  to  entertain 
another  man  under  the  circumstances ;  good  morning, 
and  success  to  you."  "Thank  you,"  I  replied,  and 
I  started  on  my  journey  and  just  at  twelve  o'clock  I  made 
Amsterdam.  Here  we  took  dinner,  leaving  Amsterdam 
at  half-past  one  o'clock  and  about  half-past  five  came 
to  a  small  farm-house.  I  stopped  and  asked  the  man  of 
the  house  if  he  would  sell  me  some  hay  for  my  cattle. 
"How  much  hay  do  you  want  for  your  cattle?"  he  asked. 
"Only  enough  for  their  supper  ;  I  am  going  to  travel  to 
night.  I  want  to  make  Schenectacty  to-night  or  early  in 
the  morning."  "Yes,  you  can  have  some  hay,  sir  ;  will 


338  SCHENECTADY. 


you  put  your  cattle  in  the  barn,  or  shall  I  bring  it  out 
here?"  "Bring  it  out  here,  if  you  please,"  which  he  did. 
"Can  I  make  me  a  dish  of  tea?"  I  asked.  "Yes,  if  you 
wish.  We  will  go  into  the  house,  perhaps  my  wife  has 
some  already  made.  It  is  our  tea  time  ;  come  in,  stran 
ger."  I  went  in  with  him  and  he  said  to  his  wife,  "This 
man  seems  to  be  travelling.  I  have  given  his  cattle  some 
hay  and  he  wants  to  make  a  dish  of  tea.  I  told  him  to 
come  into  the  house,  perhaps  you  may  have  some  already 
made."  "I  have  some  already  made  ;  perhaps  the  man 
would  like  some  supper,  he  can  if  he  wishes  ;  will  you 
take  supper  with  us?"  asked  the  wife.  "I  will,  if  you 
have  no  objections,  I  ought  not,"  I  answered.  "Take  a 
seat  at  the  table."  I  seated  myself  and  the  wife  said, 
"You  seem  to  be  travelling,  how  far  have  you  come?" 
"I  have  come  a  long  distance,  as  far  as  from  the  Pacific 
Ocean  to  this  place."  "Are  you  the  man  the  papers  of 
yesterday  speak  of  as  travelling  from  California  to  Massa 
chusetts,  with  a  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  a  little  dog?" 
"I  suppose  I  am."  After  many  other  questions  had  been 
asked  and  answered.  I  asked,  "What  is  the  distance  to 
Schenectady  ?"  "About  twelve  miles,"  was  answered. 
"I  would  like  to  see  Albany  about  this  time  to-morrow," 
"How  many  miles  do  }TOU  travel  in  the  day?"  "I  travel 
two  and  a  half  miles  per  hour,  all  day  and  night  when  I 
travel.  Friends,  I  thank  you  for  your  hospitalit}7,  good 
night."  "You  are  welcome,  good  night.  Stranger,  one 
word  ;  soon  }rou  will  be  travelling  close  by  the  railroad. 
It  is  dangerous  to  travel  at  night.  There  are  many  trains 
the  first  part  of  the  night,  all  from  the  West,  and  mostly 
freight.  The  engines  throw  out  streams  of  fire,  which  in 
the  night  look  horrid,  especially  to  the  horses."  I  went 
on  and  came  to  a  place  where  the  carriage  road  was  close 
to  the  railroad.  I  had  but  just  got  to  the  place,  when  a 
train  came  along  in  our  rear.  I  stopped ;  the  horse 
turning  partially  round ;  the  cow  had  left  her  position 


SCHENECTADY.  339 


and  stood  side  way  of  the  wagon,  as  near  me  and  the 
horse  as  she  could  get.  I  was  not  afraid  of  the  horse 
but  I  was  of  the  cow.  The  cow  has  always  been  afraid 
of  an  engine,  while  the  horse  would  stand  perfectly  still. 
On  this  occasion,  I  thought  the  cow  would  upset  the 
wagon,  but  I  spoke  to  her,  keeping  her  quiet  and  when 
the  train  had  passed  I  said,  * 'Bessie,  I  told  you  it  would 
not  harm  you."  We  went  on  and  not  long  after  another 
train  came  in  our  rear.  I  stopped  as  before  until  the 
train  had  passed  and  then  again  went  forward.  But  one 
train  did  we  meet,  while  seven  overtook  and  passed  us. 
Going  further  we  came  to  a  railroad  bridge,  which  we 
went  under  instead  of  over.  We  are  now  travelling  on 
the  right  of  the  railroad  and  about  midnight  came  to  a 
signal  station ;  here  I  stopped  for  a  time  and  went  to 
see  and  learn  the  workings  of  the  station.  When  a  train 
arrives  the  number  of  the  train  is  signalled  to  Albany. 
Number  ten,  on  time  ;  number  eight,  behind  time  twenty 
minutes  ;  number  fifteen,  behind  time  thirty  minutes,  and 
so  on.  Going  on  we  made  Schenectady  about  ten  in  the 
morning.  I  drove  under  a  shed  and  gave  my  cattle  grain, 
spread  my  blankets  and  laid  n^self  down ;  I  was  very 
tired,  sleep}*-  and  weary  and  soon  dropped  to  sleep.  I 
was  awakened  by  a  team  coming  into  the  shed.  I  got  up, 
made  ready  and  went  on  to  the  city ;  coming  to  a  fine, 
cozy  ranche,  I  stopped  for  the  day.  After  making  known 
my  presence  the  gentleman  and  lady  of  the  ranche  were 
much  interested  in  me  and  my  cattle,  and  entertained  us 
with  much  pleasure,  and  made  me  acquainted  with  A.  B. 
and  C.  as  they  passed  by.  For  example  ;  a  gentleman 
and  lady  is  passing,  my  host  says,  "Mr.  Adams,  please 
stop  a  moment."  Mr.  Adams  stops.  UI  am  entertaining 
a  man  who  has  just  arrived  here,  who  says  he  has  travel 
led  from  California,  with  that  horse,  carriage,  cow  and 
dog.  They  are  all  well,  eating  their  breakfast.  If  we 
can  rely  on  his  word,  which  I  think  we  can,  it  is  the 


340  SCHENECTADY. 


biggest  thing  out.  That  cow,  travelling  over  four  thou 
sand  miles,  think  of  it ;  she  speaks  for  herself.  She  is  a 
fine  looking  cow,  bright  and  handsome.  Oh,  she  has 
shoes  on,  and  iron  at  that,  that  tells  her  story."  "I  saw 
some  time  ago  an  account  of  a  man  travelling  from  Cali 
fornia  to  Massachusetts,  with  a  horse  and  carriage,  lead 
ing  a  cow.  I  think  this  must  be  the  man,  no  doubt," 
said  Mr.  Adams.  "You  have  come  from  California,  how 
could  you  travel  that  distance  ?  Did  you  cross  over  the 
Rocky  Mountains?"  asked  the  wife.  "I  did,  ma'am,"  I 
answered.  "Did  you  come  alone?"  asked  the  wife. 
"Yes,  all  alone."  "How  dare  you  come  alone  ;  did  you 
see  any  Indians  on  your  way  and  were  }*ou  not  afraid  of 
them?"  she  asked.  "I  was  at  first,  but  I  found  them 
Americanized.  The  young  Indians  could  speak  good 
English  quite'  well ;  the  older  Indians  I  had  nothing  to  do 
with,  I  did  hot  like  their  looks,  not  one  bit.  They  looked 
ugly,  like  the  pictures  of  all  Indians,  painted  up,  decked 
with  rings  in  their  ears  and  nose."  While  we  were  talk 
ing,  others  came  up  and  a  like  introduction  took  place. 
Others  came  and  stopped  to  see  what  is  the  matter,  until 
a  large  congregation  had  gathered  round.  Two  teams 
came  along  and  stopped.  "What  does  this  mean,  so  many 
gathered  here  ;  have  you  a  show  here  ?"  asked  one  of  the 
men.  "Yes,  we  have  a  show,  hand  over  your  money. 
The  man  from  California  has  arrived  ;  there  is  his  outfit 
and  a  good  one  too."  The  men  that  came  in  last,  were 
direct  from  the  city ;  one  of  them  I  learned  later  was  a 
reporter.  He  was  anxious  to  know  all  that  was  worth 
knowing.  The  two  teams  returned  to  the  city  and  re 
ported  what  they  had  seen.  This  brought  out  many  more. 
I  was  at  dinner  when  these  came  and  when  I  had  fin 
ished  I  loaned  my  services  for  one  hour,  answering  all 
the  questions  they  could  think  of,  from  California  to  my 
present  place. 


COZY  RANCHE.  341 


Cozy  Ranche. — I  left  Cozy  Ranche,  two  miles  east  of 
Schenectady,  at  four  in  the  afternoon  of  the  22nd,  for  Al 
bany,  arriving  on  the  morning  of  the  23rd,  at  nine  o'clock. 
On  entering  the  city  I  was  much  annoyed  by  the  boys.  It 
seems  they  had  been  informed  of  my  coming  and  came  to 
meet  me  in  large  numbers.  They  were  armed  with  pistols 
and  fire  crackers.  My  horse  cared  but  little  for  these,  but 
the  cow  became  frantic  ;  I  could  do  nothing  with  her.  I 
tried  to  reason  with  them,  but  in  vain.  I  travelled  as  far 
as  I  could  with  safety  and  then  stopped.  Here  I  remained 
until  I  could  have  assistance  from  the  police.  A  street 
car  was  passing  by  and  I  spoke  to  the  conductor,  asking 
him  to  send  me  a  policeman  to  assist  me  in  passing 
through  the  city.  The  officer  soon  arrived,  saying, 
"  Stranger,  what  is  the  matter,  that  you  are  obliged  to 
send  for  me?"  "The  boys  are  having  more  fun  than  I 
can  stand ;  the  horse  stands  it,  but  the  cow  has  become 
frantic,"  I  replied.  "What  can  I  do  for  you  ;  where  are 
3Tou  going?"  asked  the  policeman.  "I  am  on  my  way 
home  to  Massachusetts ;  I  do  not  intend  to  stop  in  the 
city.  I  wish  to  pass  directly  through  and  cross  the  river 
into  East  Albany ;  will  you  see  me  to  the  bridge  ?"  I 
asked.  "I  will,  with  pleasure,"  answered  the  policeman. 
We  went  on  and  the  boys'  fun  was  all  cut  off ;  no  more 
crackers  were  heard  from  them.  Oh  reaching  the  bridge, 
I  asked  him,  "How  much  shall  I  pay  }-ou  for  this  favor?" 
"Not  anything,  sir,"  said  the  policeman.  "Thank  }TOU, 
sir,"  I  answered.  I  crossed  over  the  bridge  into  East 
Albany  and  here  I  stopped  for  dinner.  About  two  o'clock 
we  resumed  our  journey  and  on  reaching  East  Greenbush 
we  stopped  for  the  night. 

East  Greenbush. — I  left  this  place  on  the  morning  of 
the  24th,  making  Nassua  the  same  day.  It  was  early  in 
the  morning  as  I  left,  I  did  not  stop  to  take  a  breakfast. 
About  nine  o'clock  I  came  to  a  small  ranche  where  I 


342  GREENBUSH. 


stopped,  fed  the  cattle  and  myself  and  then  went  on.  A 
change  in  the  weather  is  about  to  take  place,  the  clouds 
threatening  a  storm.  A  given  time  had  been  set  for 
crossing  the  State  line,  therefore,  I  would  have  to  make  a 
given  place  in  order  to  come  to  time.  About  eleven 
o'clock  it  commenced  raining,  so  I  pushed  onward  and 
soon  came  to  a  house,  and  opposite  this  house  was  a  car 
riage  shed,  which  we  went  under.  It  continued  to  rain 
and  the  wind  had  changed  its  quarter  into  the  north-east. 
My  quarters  were  good  for  a  north-easter.  About  twelve 
at  noon,  a  man  with  9  horse  and  carriage  drove  up  to 
where  I  was.  I  said  to  him,  "Stranger,  I  have  taken  pos 
session  of  3'our  shed  ;  it  commenced  raining  and  I  was 
anxious  to  get  under  cover,  out  of  the  storm,  so  I  took 
the  liberty  to  drive  in  here  and  would  like  to  remain  until 
the  storm  is  over ;  with  your  consent  I  will  remain." 
"All  right,  sir,  3rou  can  remain,"  said  the  man.  "Will 
you  sell  me  some  ha}T  for  my  cattle?"  I  asked.  "I  have 
no  hay  to  sell,  I  will  give  you  some,"  said  he.  "Thank 
you  ;  that  is  a  saving  of  time  in  counting  your  money,"  I 
answered.  "Where  are  }'ou  from  ;  excuse  me  for  asking 
the  question?"  he  said.  "That  question  has  been  asked 
me  many  times.  I  can  answer  it  by  night  as  well  as  by 
day ;  I  am  the  man  that  has  travelled  almost  across  the 
continent.  I  presume  you  have  seen  me  mentioned  in 
the  papers,"  I  said.  "I  have  read  in  the  papers  of  a  man 
travelling  from  California  to  Massachusetts  ;  are  you  the 
man,  with  that  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  little  dog ;  where 
is  the  dog?"  was  asked.  "He  is  in  the  carriage,  under 
the  blankets,"  I  answered.  "I  must  go  into  the  house 
and  inform  my  wife  of  your  arrival.  No  longer  than 
yesterday,  we  were  reading  of  your  arrival  in  Utica.  We 
had  no  idea  of  seeing  the  man  and  his  cattle  ;  you  have 
come  to  us  and  you  can  stop  as  long  as  the  storm  lasts, 
and  longer  should  you  wish.".  "I  am  anxious  to  get 
home."  "Where  is  your  home,  by  the  way?"  "Webster, 


GREENBUSH.  343 


Massachusetts.  I  am  almost  home."  "Come  into  the 
house,  our  dinner  is  ready  and  waiting."  "We  went  into 
the  house,  he  saying  to  his  wife,  "Here  is  the  very  man 
with  his  horse  and  cow  that  we  saw  mentioned  in  the 
paper  of  yesterday  ;  I  asked  him  in  to  dinner,  is  it  read}7  ?" 
"Yes,. and  has  been  waiting  some  time,"  said  the  wife. 
"I  don't  care  for  any  dinner  ;  I  ate  my  breakfast  between 
nine  and  ten  o'clock,  I  am  not  in  want  of  any  dinner,"  I 
said.  "Have  a  dish  of  coffee  and  a  piece  of  pie,  we  will 
have  supper  earl}7,"  said  the  wife.  "I  may  have  to  stop 
here  several  days  waiting  for  the  storm  to  pass  over,  or 
travel  in  the  storm,"  I  said.  "Don't  trouble  yourself 
about  the  storm  ;  I  have  never  known  but  one  storm  that 
did  not  clear  away  soon,  and  this  will,  I  think,"  said  my 
host.  After  dinner  we  went  to  look  at  the  California  cow. 
"Is  that  cow  a  native  of  California?"  asked  the  man, 
looking  me  straight  in  the  eye.  "Yes,  sir  ;  she  is.  I  am 
no  fraud.  Some  think  she  has  not  travelled  half  that  dis 
tance,  but  you  can  see  that  she  has  marks  that  belong  to 
the  far  west.  I  say,  and  repeat  it,  that  cow  has  travelled 
more  than  four  thousand  miles  and  she  has  been  shod  four 
times  on  the  journey.  Her  first  shoeing  was  at  Reno,  Ne 
vada  ;  up  to  that  time  she  had  travelled  seven  hundred 
miles  ;  her  next  shoeing  was  at  Ogden,  Utah ;  the  third 
was  in  Weber,  Utah  ;  the  fourth  time  was  in  Homestead, 
Iowa ;  the  fifth  will  be  at  Lebanon,  to-morrow,  should 
the  storm  pass  over  so  soon."  "Stranger,  would  you  not 
prefer  to  have  your  cattle  in  the  barn,  if  so,  you  can  as 
well  as  not?"  "They  are  comfortable  as  they  are,  as  the 
storm  is  in  the  east  and  it  is  much  more  comfortable  to  lie 
on  the  ground  than  on  timber."  "We  can  give  the  horse 
a  good  bedding."  About  five  o'clock  I  milked  the  cow 
and  carried  the  milk  into  the  house  and  handed  it  to  the 
lady,  who  seemed  much  pleased  with  it.  About  this  time 
supper  was  ready  and  on  the  table.  "I  have  been  read 
ing  about  your  arrival  in  Utica.  It  says  that  a  man  from 


344  NASSUA. 


California,  by  the  name  of  W.  B.  Johnson,  is  in  the  cit}T, 
on  his  way  to  Massachusetts.  I  have  learned  your  name 
by  reading  the  paper,"  said  the  lady.  "That  is  correct, 
my  name  is  Johnson."  "Our  supper  is  read}*,  Mr.  John 
son,  take  a  seat  at  the  table."  After  supper  my  cattle 
were  well  cared  for,  and  when  the  time  for  retiring  came, 
I  remarked,  "That  it  was  my  custom  to  retire  with  my 
cattle  and  I  had  strictly  adhered  to  it  with  two  or  three 
exceptions.  These  were  since  travelling  in  this  State. 
There  have  been  times  when  I  would  not  leave  my  cattle 
by  day  or  night.  "While  in  Cheyenne,  I  was  invited  by  a 
comrade  of  the  Grand  Army  to  take  my  meals  with  him, 
and  he  told  me  to  look  sharp  after  my  cattle  at  nights  or  I 
should  lo^se  them,  especially  the  horse.  The  cow  there  is 
not  so  much  danger  of.  The  cow-boys  are  fond  of  swap 
ping  horses  and  are  sure  to  get  the  best  every  time." 

It  was  late  on  the  morning  of  the  4th  when  I  got  up 
and  found  it  still  raining.  I  went  to  my  cattle  and  found 
them  all  right,  I  gave  them  some  h&y  and  returned  to  the 
house.  My  host,  John,  called  out,  "Go  back  to  bed,  }rou 
will  not  leave  here  to-da3\"  "I  will,  if  you  say  so,"  I 
answered.  "I  do  say  so,"  said  John.  I  went  back  to 
my  bed  and  remained  there  until  I  was  sure  they  were  all 
below.  When  the  bell  sounded  for  breakfast,  I  reluc 
tantly  got  up  ;  it  was  just  ten  o'clock  and  breakfast  was 
waiting.  After  breakfast  I  went  to  the  barn  and  gave  my 
cattle  more  hay  and  returned  to  the  house. 

Nassua. — I  left  Nassua  on  the  morning  of  the  27th, 
making  Pittsfield,  in  Massachusetts,  the  same  day.  This 
morning  I  was  up  early,  making  read}'  to  move  onward. 
It  was  a  fine  morning,  but  cold.  After  getting  all  ready, 
I  returned  to  the  house.  The  lady  of  the  house  was  up 
and  had  made  a  good  fire.  I  sat  near  the  fire  warming 
my  fingers,  which  were  very  cold.  "You  intend  to  leave 


MOUNT  LEBANON.  345 


us  this  morning?"  said  the  lady.  "I  do  ;  I  have  made  a 
long  stop,  one  day  more  than  I  really  could  afford.  I 
must  take  it  from  some  one  else."  "Come,  John,  get  up, 
my  breakfast  is  about  ready,"  said  the  lady.  "Yes, 
John,  get  up  and  see  me  off,"  I  said.  "I  will,  stranger," 
said  John.  After  breakfast,  I  left  them  with  a  good-bye 
all  round.  "Should  you  come  this  way  again,  call  and 
see  how  we  are  getting  along,"  said  the  lad}'.  "Yes,  call. 
If  you  should  get  into  a  storm,  we  will  try  and  keep  you 
warm,"  said  John.  "Good  morning  and  success  to  you." 
I  left  them  and  went  on  until  coming  to  two  roads,  one  to 
West  Lebanon  and  the  other  to  Lebanon.  Here  I  in 
quired  Jthe  best  road  to  Pittsfield.  I  was  told  the  best 
road  was  to  my  right,  over  Mount  Lebanon.  I  went  on 
until  coming  to  the  latter  place  where  I  made  a  stop,  in 
quiring  the  distance  to  the  State  line.  A  lady  told  me  it 
was  but  a  short  distance  up  the  mountain.  She  was 
dressed  in  the  Shaker  fashion.  I  said  to  her,  "You  are  a 
Shaker,  I  think,  by  your  attire?"  "I  am,  sir,"  she 
replied.  "I  am  a  traveller  on  my  way  home  to  Massa 
chusetts,  which  is  my  home.  Can  I  know  when  I  step 
over  the  line  into  Massachusetts?"  I  asked.  "I  can  not 
answer  that  question,"  said  the  lady.  Opposite  where  we 
were  standing  was  a  stable,  and  two  men  were  standing 
near.  The  lady  spoke  to  one  of  the  two  saying,  "Please 
step  here  a  moment ;  this  gentleman  has  asked  me  a  ques 
tion  that  I  am  unable  to  answer.  His  question  is,  can  I 
know  when  I  step  from  one  State  to  another,  or  cross  the 
line?"  "Yes,  sir;  you  can.  It  does  not  require  a  long 
step  to  decide  the  question.  When  you  come  to  the  State 
line,  you  wlil  find  a  post,  the  centre  of  which  is  supposed  to 
be  the  line.  Stranger,  why  are  you  so  particular  to  under 
stand  the  exact  line?"  asked  the  man.  "I  will  tell  you  if 
I  have  time.  What  is  the  time  of  the  morning?"  "It  is 
just  ten  o'clock,"  answered  the  man.  "I  first  remarked 
to  the  lady,  that  I  was  a  traveller ;  yes,  I  am  one  on  a 


346  MOUNT  LEBANON. 


large  scale.  I  have  almost  crossed  the  continent,  from  the 
Pacific  to  the  Atlantic  ;  from  California  almost  to  Massachu 
setts.  Now,  sir ;  when  I  make  the  line,  I  want  to  know  it, 
as  I  propose  as  I  step  into  Massachusetts  to  give  three 
cheers  for  the  Old  Bay  State.  Do  you  now  understand?" 
I  said.  "I  do,"  said  the  man.  As  I  was  about  to  go  on 
the  man  said,  "But,  stop,  stranger,  I  wish  to  ask  you  a 
few  questions."  "If  you  begin  to  ask  questions  and  I 
attempt  to  answer  them,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  cross  the 
State  line  to-day.  Whj7,  just  look  at  it,  more  then  four 
thousand  two  hundred  miles  of  questions  to  ask  and 
answer ;  it  will  cover  more  than  three  hundred  pages  on 
paper.  I  want  to  step  into  Massachusetts  just  at  twelve 
o'clock.  Now,  sir,  I  will  contract  with  you.  It  is  this, 
if  you  will  give  my  cattle  grain  ;  n^self,  bread  and  hot 
coffee  ;  my  dog  a  bone,  with  no  meat  on  it ;  (be  careful 
about  the  meat,  as  it  might  hurt  him,)  I  will  stop  and 
listen  to  your  questions  for  one  hour ;  will  you  agree  to 
this  contract?"  "I  will,"  said  the  man.  "Begin  with 
my  cattle,"  I  said.  "Lead  them  into  the  barn,  here  is 
the  grain,"  said  the  man.  I  led  them  into  the  barn  and 
they  had  their  grain,  not  in  small  quantities  by  no  means, 
but  in  large  quantities.  The  last  part  of  the  contract,  I 
am  not  particular  about,  but  the  first  part  I  am.  Had  I 
not  well  cared  for  my  cattle,  they  would  not  have  been 
here  to-day.  "Well,  stranger,  I  will  listen  to  your  ques 
tions,  begin."  "You  gave  me  to  understand  that  you 
have  travelled  with  that  horse  and  carriage,  leading  that 
cow,  more  than  four  thousand  two  hundred  miles.  Now, 
sir,  where  did  you  start  from  to  make  that  distance  ?"  he 
asked.  "I  started  from  Eureka  city,  Humboldt  bay, 
three  hundred  and  three  miles  north  of  San  Francisco, 
with  that  horse,  wagon,  cow  and  dog.  I  followed  the 
Central  Pacific  Railroad  to  Ogden  ;  from  Ogden,  I  fol 
lowed  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  most  of  the  way  to 
Omaha.  From  Omaha,  I  followed  the  Rock  Island  Rail- 


PITTSFIELD.  347 


road  through  Iowa,  Illinois,  Indiana,  Ohio,  and  a  small 
bit  of  Penns}rlvania  to  Buffalo.  From  Buffalo  to  Albany, 
and  from  there  here.  Now,  sir,  it  has  taken  many  days 
to  travel  that  long  distance.  I  have  seen  all  that  was 
worth  seeing  except  the  elephant ;  he  had  just  slipped  out, 
I  could  not  get  a  sight  of  him."  "When  you  left  Eureka, 
that  cow  left  at  the  same  time  and  place?"  he  asked. 
"We  all  left  at  the  same  time  and  place."  "Well,  well, 
she  is  a  wonderful  cow  ;  it  is  all  most  wonderful.  You 
have  only  about  one  hundred  miles  more  and  you  will  be 
at  home,  which  I  hope  you  will  safely  reach.  Will  you 
ever  regret  that  you  undertook  the  journey?"  asked  the 
man.  "I  can  not  answer  that  question.  I  think  not ;  how 
ever,  I  can  not  tell.  If  I  reach  home  safely,  there  will  be 
no  reason  to  regret,"  I  answered.  "It  is  eleven  o'clock, 
come  in  and  get  a  lunch,  }TOU  will  have  time,"  said  the 
man.  I  went  in  and  got  a  lunch,  then  returned  and  made 
ready  and  went  on.  I  came  to  the  State  line  and  crossed 
into  the  Old  Bay  State,  with  three  cheers.  Going  on  and 
just  before  reaching  Pittsfield  city,  we  came  to  a  fine  plat 
of  grass,  I  stopped  and  gave  the  cattle  a  chance  to  eat  of 
it.  Opposite  this  plat  of  grass  is  a  large  Monumental 
Manufactory.  [  called  at  a  house  for  permission  to  make 
a  pot  of  coffee.  Both  the  lady  and  gentleman  were  at 
tea.  I  asked  the  lady  if  she  would  permit  me  to  make 
some  coffee.  "Oh,  yes  ;  with  pleasure,"  she  answered. 
I  went  for  my  coffee  pot  and  on  returning  I  was  asked 
into  the  house.  "Are  you  travelling?"  asked  the  gentle 
man.  "I  am,  sir,"  I  replied.  "I  see  you  are  feeding 
your  cattle  opposite,  and  I  thought  you  might  be 
travelling.  Where  are  you  travelling  to?"  he  asked. 
"To  Webster,  Massachusetts."  "Wife,  put  a  plate  on 
the  table  for  this  man.  I  think  I  have  heard  about  you 
through  the  papers.  They  tell  about  a  man  travelling 
from  California  to  this  State  ;  are  you  the  man?"  "I  am," 
I  replied.  "Take  a  seat  at  the  table  ;  you  are  welcome 


348  PITTSFIELD. 


to  what  }Tou  want  to  eat  or  drink. "  I  took  a  seat  at  the 
table  and  after  supper  I  asked  him  if  he  could  accommo 
date  me  and  my  cattle  with  barn  room?"  "Yes,  I  have 
plenty  of  barn  room  ;  I  will  accommodate  you.  I  will  be 
well  paid  for  it,  without  money  or  price,  as  I  think  you 
can  tell  a  story  that  will  be  interesting  to  us  ;  such  a  story 
as  is  not  often  told,  if  ever,  We  have  stories,  but  they 
are  all  fiction  ;  you  can  tell  us  what  you  have  seen,  some 
thing  that  is  worth  telling.  First,  we  will  go  to  the  barn 
and  see  what  is  wanted."  We  went  to  the  barn.  "There 
is  a  stall  for  your  horse,  the  cow  can  stand  beside  the 
horse;  how  is  that,  stranger?"  "All  right,  sir."  I  led 
the  cattle  in  and  made  them  fast  to  their  allotted  places. 
"My  hay  I  call  good,  we  will  see  what  your  cattle  say 
about  it."  They  pronounced  it  good.  "Now,  we  will  go 
into  the  house,  as  I  am  anxious  to  hear  from  the  West.  I 
have  many  questions  to  ask  ;  you  must  take  it  easy,"  re 
marked  my  host.  "To-morrow  will  be  Sunday  and  I  do 
not  care  to  travel.  I  have  travelled  on  Sundays,  however, 
not  knowing  it  at  the  time.  All  the  days  seemed  alike. 
Da}^s  and  days  have  I  travelled  and  would  not  meet  a 
living  being,  but  wild  animals."  "You  have  had  some 
thing  to  do  with  the  wild  animals?"  asked  my  host.  "I 
have  seen  them,  but  never  cared  to  make  close  acquaint 
ance  with  them .  There  have  been  times  when  I  would 
break  camp  and  leave  them  ;  I  disliked  their  deportment. 
They  were  always  cross  and  crabbed."  How  about  the 
Indians?"  he  asked.  "The  Indians,  I  have  seen  many  of 
them  and  I  have  travelled  with  them  many  miles ;  con 
versed  with  them  many  times,  and  have  asked  them  to  put 
me  on  the  right  track  frequently.  They  would  do  it ;  one 
time  in  particular,  I  had  lost  my  trail  and  was  returning 
to  Carlin,  about  eight  miles  distant,  when  a  cavalcade  of 
Indians  came  down  the  bluff.  I  signalled  them  to  stop, 
and  two  of  them  rode  up  to  me,  sa}Ting,  'What's  wanted, 
friend.*  'I  have  lost  my  trail  to  Elko,'  I  answered. 


PITTSFIELD.  349 


'Follow  me,'  said  the  Indian.  I  followed  him  and  was 
soon  on  the  right  trail.  I  thanked  him  and  went  on  to 
Elko."  "How  was  it  with  the  cow-boys;  did  you  ever 
come  across  them?"  asked  my  host.  "I  did,  I  saw  many 
of  them  ;  they  were  gentlemen  to  me  ;  they  offered  me  no 
insult  whatever.  Having  heard  much  about  them,  I  was 
afraid  of  them  at  first,  but  that  soon  disappeared.  Many 
times  I  was  reminded  of  the  cow-bo}^s  ;  my  first  day  out 
from  Cheyenne,  I  saw  two  men  on  horseback  ;  I  was  a 
little  excited  ;  they  were  in  my  rear,  coming  towards  me. 
I  had  about  twenty-five  dollars  about  me  ;  two  ten  dollar 
bills,  one  two  and  three  dollars  in  change.  I  dropped  the 
bills  into  my  boots  and  went  on  ;  soon  they  overtook  me, 
passed  to  the  right  and  went  on.  I  was  more  scared  than 
hurt;  after  this  I  was  afraid  of  no  man.  I  was  insulted 
by  no  one  until  I  had  travelled  more  than  four  thousand 
miles,  and  that  man  was  so  badly  drunk,  that  he  feared  not 
the  weapon  I  was  swinging  around  his  head.  I  could 
have  laid  him  out  with  one  blow." 

On  the  morning  of  the  28th,  Sunday,  I  arose  about 
seven  o'clock.  I  went  to  the  barn,  finding  all  right,  I  fed 
the  cattle  and  returned  to  the  house  and  to  bed.  About 
nine  o'clock  I  was  called  for  breakfast,  which  I  answered. 
As  I  entered  the  dining-room,  I  was  received  with  "Good 
morning,  friend  Johnson."  "Good  morning,"  I  respond 
ed  ;  "you  are  ahead  of  my  time.  You  have  been  reading 
the  morning's  paper."  "I  have  not  this  morning's,  but  I 
have  the  papers  of  several  mornings  back.  I  learn  from 
them  that  your  name  is  W.  B.  Johnson  ;  do  you  answer 
to  that  name?"  asked  my  host.  "I  do,  sir.  Well,  friend, 
how  am  I  to  learn  your  name  ;  what  paper  shall  I  find  it 
in,  please  tell  me?"  "I  think,  sir,  that  you  will  not  find 
it  in  any  paper,  but  I  will  give  you  my  name.  My  name 
is  Hungerford."  "Mr.  Hungerford,  where  will  you  at 
tend  church  to-day?"  "I  think,  sir,  I  shall  not  attend 


350  DALTON. 


church  to-day,"  he  replied.  "I  think  I  will  take  to  the 
bed,  it  will  do  me  more  good  than  going  to  church.  Mr. 
Hungerford,  is  this  lady  your  wife?"  I  asked.  "She  is 
my  wife,"  he  answered.  "Mrs.  Hungerford,  last  night 
as  I  was  about  to  retire  to  bed  and  turning  down  the  bed 
ding,  what  do  you  think  I  found?"  ''I  don't  know,  I  am 
sure;  what  did  you  find?"  asked  the  wife.  "Find?  I 
found  a  clean  bed.  It  reminded  me  of  home." 

Dalton. — I  left  the  Monumental  Works,  near  Pittsfield, 
on  the  morning  of  the  31st  of  October,  arriving  in  Green 
field  about  midnight  of  November  4th.  On  the  morning 
of  the  3Ist,  after  a  recess  of  three  days,  caused  by  the 
falling  of  snow  and  rain.  I  made  an  attempt  to  travel. 
My  road  was  heavy  with  mud  ;  I  continued  on,  however. 
On  making  Dalton  I  concluded  to  stop  over  for  the  night. 
On  coming  to  a  livery  stable  I  stopped  and  went  into  the 
office.  There  were  several  persons  sitting  round  a  good, 
comfortable  fire.  "Is  the  proprietor  in?"  I  inquired. 
"He  is,  what  will  }TOU  have?"  he  asked.  "Could  I  stop 
under  your  shed  to-night,  I  am  travelling  and  have  been 
stopping  in  Pittsfield  the  last  three  days  on  account  of 
the  storm.  The  storm  has  made  it  heavy  travelling  and  I 
am  anxious  to  reach  home  as  it  is  getting  late  in  the 
season.  I  am  liable  to  get  snow-bound  and  will  not  be 
able  to  travel."  "Where  is  your  home?"  asked  the 
livery-man.  "My  home  is  in  Webster,  Massachusetts." 
"You  say  you  are  travelling;  where  are  you  from?" 
asked  the  Iiver3"-man.  "I  have  come  through  from  Cali 
fornia,"  I  replied.  "I  have  heard  about  }'ou  through  the 
papers.  Where  is  your  team?"  asked  the  livery-man. 
"Under  the  shed,  sir."  All  hands  went  to  the  shed.  "Ah, 
a  cow ;  yes,  yes,  you  are  the  man  the  papers  speak  of- 
Stranger,  back  out  of  this  place  and  lead  your  horse 
in  the  barn,  it  will  be  much  more  comfortable  than  under 
this  shed,"  said  the  livery-man.  I  led  my  cattle  into  the 


WINDSOR.  351 


barn  and  they  were  well  cared  for.  "Come  to  the  house 
with  me  and  get  some  supper,"  said  the  livery-man.  I 
went  with  him,  he  introducing  me  to  his  wife,  as  follows, 
"Wife,  this  is  the  gentleman  that  we  were  reading  about 
in  the  papers,  travelling  from  California  to  Massachu 
setts."  "You  have  come  a  long  distance.  Where  in 
Massachusetts  is  your  home?"  she  asked.  "In  Webster, 
Worcester  county."  After  supper  we  returned  to  the 
stable  and  fed  my  cattle  with  grain.  "If  you  have  no 
objections  I  would  like  to  spread  my  blankets  on  this  hay, 
it  will  give  me  a  good  bed  for  the  night."  No  objections 
being  raised,  I  made  me  a  bed  of  hay  and  laid  down  for 
the  night. 


Windsor. — On  the  morning  of  November  1st,  I  left 
Dal  ton,  travelling  over  the  mountain  through  Windsor. 
While  on  the  mountain  I  was  struck  by  a  snow  squall, 
snow  falling  some  six  inches.  Having  passed  Windsor 
and  descending  the  mountain,  about  mid-waj',  I  came  to  a 
house  and  barn.  I  stopped,  and  at  the  house  I  asked 
permission  to  use  the  barn.  I  was  told  by  the  lady  that 
the  floor  of  the  barn  was  filled  with  corn  and  I  would  not 
be  able  to  get  my  wagon  in,  but  the  cattle  could  get  in,  no 
doubt.  I  took  the  cattle  to  the  barn,  removing  the  snow 
from  them  and  giving  them  their  blankets,  made  them 
comfortable.  By  this  time  I  had  got  wet  and  very  cold. 
I  went  to  the  house  to  warm  my  hands  as  they  were  very 
cold.  As  I  was  about  to  enter,  the  lady  met  me  at  the 
door  and  said,  "Come  in,  I  have  a  good  fire;  you  must 
be  cold."  I  went  in  and  the  lady  said,  "Your  cattle  are 
comfortable,  I  hope."  "They  are  ;  I  have  removed  the  snow 
and  have  given  them  their  blankets,  which  makes  them 
comfortable.  Madame,  will  you  allow  me  to  bring  in  my 
luncb  basket?"  I  asked.  "Oh,  j-es,  certainly,"  said  the 
lady.  I  carried  in  my  basket,  made  a  pot  of  coffee, 
boiled  some  eggs  and  made  a  dry  toast  of  crackers, 


352  WINDSOR. 


making  a  good  supper.  After  eating  my  supper. I  went  to 
the  barn,  giving  my  cattle  their  grain,  made  me  a  bed  of 
hay  and  went  to  sleep.  After  a  time  the  man  of  the 
ranche  returned  from  market  and  I  explained  to  him  my 
taking  possession  of  the  barn  by  a  permit  from  his  lady. 
"It  is  nil  right,*  had  I  been  in  your  boots  I  would  have 
done  the  same.  You  had  better  come  into  the  house  and 
take  a  bed,'  you  are  welcome,"  said  the  man.  "Thank 
you,  I  shall  be  very  comfortable  here  ;  it  is  not  very  cold. 
I  prefer  to  remain  here  ;  I  have  matches  but  only  use 
them  for  lighting  my  lantern.  I  am  not  a  smoker }  I 
never  made  but  one  attempt,  that  sickened  me  so  much, 
that  I  never  made  the  second  attempt.  I  have  fed  my 
cattle  with  your  hay,  how  much  shall  I  pay  you?"  I 
asked.  "Not  an}'thing  ;  not  a  dime  will  I  take.  I  may 
want  the  same  favor  some  time,"  said  the  man.  "I  may 
leave  early  in  the  morning,  before  }'ou  are  up,"  I  said. 
"Stop  and  get  your  breakfast  before  you  leave.  Good 
night."  "Good  night,"  I  replied. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  November  2nd,  I  was  up 
making  ready  to  leave,  and  left  the  ranche  mid- way  of  the 
mountain  at  six  o'clock.  I  went  on  down  the  mountain, 
coming  to  the  road  I  should  have  taken  at  Dalton.  This 
road  would  have  taken  me  around  the  left  side  of  the 
mountain,  instead  of  over  it  and  through  Windsor.  The 
map  told  me  that  Windsor  was  in  the  right  direction. 
Therefore,  I  went  over  the  mountain,  and  several  miles 
out  of  my  way  ;  and  a  more  disagreeable  road  I  have  not 
found  on  my  long  journey.  Now  I  am  on  a  good  road. 
Had  it  not  been  for  yesterday's  snow,  I  should  have  had  a 
good  day's  travel.  My  last  few  miles  have  been  free  from 
mud  and  snow ;  to-morrow  I  hope  to  find  it  still  better. 
About  half-past  four  o'clock  I  came  to  an  old-fashioned 
New  England  farm  house.  I  went  to  the  door  and  rang 
the  bell,  which  was  answered  by  an  elderly  lad" 


THE  FARM.  353 


"Madame,"  I  said,  "I  am  travelling;  it  is  about  time 
that  I  should  know  where  I  am  to  stop  for  the  night.  It 
is  going  to  be  a  cold,  frosty  night,  and  I  would  like  to 
get  under  cover  ;  your  shed  will  answer  my  purpose.  I 
would  like  some  hay  for  my  cattle,  I  carry  grain  and  my 
own  grub  ;  all  I  wish  is  hay  for  my  cattle?"  "My  hus 
band  is  in  the  barn  taking  care  of  his  cattle  ;  he  will  be 
in  soon.  Perhaps  I  had  better  sound  the  horn,  it  will 
hasten  him  along."  She  took  down  the  old  tin-horn  giv 
ing  it  a  couple  of  blasts,  which  brought  the  old  gentleman 
to  the  house.  "Richard,  this  man  wants  to  stop  over 
night  under  the  shed,  and  wants  some  hay  for  his  cattle," 
said  the  lad}T.  "Travelling,  are  you  ;  where  are  you  from 
and  where  are  you  going?  Why  I  ask  these  questions  is, 
you  represent  the  man  that  I  saw  an  account  of  in  the 
newspapers,  travelling  from  California  to  Massachusetts.'' 
"I  am  the  man."  "Do  you  belong  in  Massachusetts ; 
what  t  )wn?"  asked  the  man.  "I  do  ;  the  town  of  Web 
ster,"  I  replied.  "I  have  plenty  of  room  in  the  barn 
for  the  cattle,  which  will  be  much  more  comfortable.  It 
will  cost  you  no  more,"  said  the  man.  I  concluded  to 
have  them  in  the  barn  ;  they  were  well  cared  for.  "We 
will  go  into  the  house  and  see  what  the  woman  will  do  for 
you.  She  ought  to  do  as  well  for  you  as  I  have  done  for 
your  cattle."  We  went  into  the  house,  he  saying,  "Wife, 
this  man  has  done  a  great  thing.  We  will  never  have  an 
other  opportunity  to  show  our  hospitality."  "I  can  give 
the  man  a  good  supper  and  a  good  bed,  and  in  the  morn 
ing  a  good  breakfast  and  lunch  for  his  dinner.  I  will  do 
so  much,"  said  the  wife. 

The  morning  of  the  3rd  I  was  up  as  usual,  getting 
ready  to  leave  the  old  New  England  farm-house,  which  I 
left  at  seven  o'clock,  with  good  mornings  on  both  sides  ; 
with  success  on  one  side  and  a  thank  you  on  the  other. 
It  was  a  fine  morning,  a  good  road  and  every  thing  in 


354  TURNERS  FALLS. 


harmony.  About  twelve  o'clock  I  made  a  factory  village. 
Here  we  stopped  for  dinner,  which  was  just  one  hour,  and 
then  went  on  and  came  to  a  railroad,  which  we  crossed, 
and  onward  to  a  river  which  we  crossed  on  a  suspension 
bridge.  Here  was  a  fine  plat  of  grass.  I  stopped  and 
allowed  my  cattle  a  grass  supper  and  while  they  were  eat 
ing  I  gathered  fuel  and  made  a  fire,  boiling  water  for 
coffee, and  ate  my  supper.  Having  a  good  road  and  a  fine 
evening,  I  concluded  to  travel  a  while.  Here  my  stop 
was  two  hours.  I  went  forward  and  about  midnight 
reached  Greenfield.  We  went  under  a  shed,  I  made  up 
my  bed,  laid  me  down  and  had  a  good  night's  rest.  While 
in  Pittsfield  I  had  not  fully  decided  on  my  direction  to 
travel,  having  two  sisters,  one  in  Marlow,  New  Hamp 
shire,  and  one  in  Webster,  Massachusetts.  The  one  in 
New  Hampshire  I  did  not  positively  know  that  she  was 
there.  I  wrote  the  Postmaster  at  Marlow,  asking  if  Mrs. 
A.  Emerson  was  in  Marlow,  and  please  write  me  at 
Greenfield,  Massachusetts.  Leaving  Pittsfield,  I  took 
my  directions  to  Greenfield.  Greenfield  lay  to  my  left 
and  Northampton  to  my  right.  Had  I  known  positively 
which  place  to  travel  to,  I  should  have  gone  to  North 
ampton,  for  Webster;  had  it  been  Marlow,  I  should 
have  gone  direct  to  Keene.  On  my  arrival  in  Greenfield, 
I  went  to  the  Post-office,  but  it  being  Sunday  it  was  not 
open.  I  called  upon  the  Postmaster,  who,  not  being  at 
home  I  was  delayed  in  getting  my  mail,  as  there  was  one. 

Turners  Falls. — On  the  4th  of  November  I  left  Green 
field  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  for  Marlow,  where 
I  arrived  on  the  7th,  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
On  leaving  Greenfield,  my  direction  was  east  to  Turners 
Falls.  Here  I  crossed  the  Connecticut  river  twice,  on  two 
suspension  bridges  ;  one  to  get  into  the  city  and  one  to 
get  out.  The  one  above  the  Falls  is  much  larger  than 
the  one  below;  both  are  very  fine  bridges.  I  passed 


WINCHESTER.  355 


directly  through  the  town,  making  no  stop.  I  found  it 
difficult  to  get  through,  as  the  boys  were  under  no  re 
straint  whatever,  but  I  succeeded  in  crossing  the  bridge 
and  went  on,  coming  to  the  town  of  Gill.  Here,  on  the 
3rd  of  April,  1880,  Sunday.  I  stopped  with  a  friend  on 
my  way  to  California.  I  thought  it  not  more  than  right 
that  I  should  stop  on  my  return.  On  my  arrival  I  was 
received  with  much  pleasure  and  we  were  all  well  cared 
for.  Many  questions  were  asked  and  disposed  of,  which 
made  a  lengthy  evening.  I  was  strongly  urged  to  remain 
a  few  days,  but  I  was  anxious  to  get  to  my  journey's  end, 
that  I  might  get  a  rest. 

Winchester. — On  the  morning  of  the  5th,  about  eight 
o'clock  I  left  Gill,  and  about  eleven  o'clock  came  to  the 
Connecticut  river.  Here  we  crossed  the  river  on  a  boat 
into  Northfield,  where  we  took  dinner.  After  a  stop  of 
two  hours  we  went  on,  but  our  good  road  was  left  behind. 
I  am  about  leaving  Massachusetts,  by  simply  slipping 
over  the  line  into  New  Hampshire.  I  am  now  travel 
ling  in  that  State,  what  a  change  in  the  roads  from 
one  state  to  another ;  such  a  change  ought  not  to  be. 
About  four  o'clock  we  passed  through  Winchester,  where 
we  made  a  short  stop,  feeding  my  cattle  with  grain  and 
then  went  on  ;  I  concluding  to  travel  a  while  the  first  part 
of  the  night  and  make  Keene  early  in  the  morning.  I 
continued  my  journey  until  I  could  not  travel  any  fur 
ther,  I  was  so  weary  and  sleepy  that  I  would  drop  to  sleep 
while  walking  beside  my  horse.  I  stopped  and  made  my 
horse  fast  to  a  post  and  laid  nryself  down  on  the  ground, 
without  spreading  my  blankets.  I  was  so  weary  and 
sleepy  that  I  at  once  went  to  sleep.  A  passing  team 
awoke  me  and  I  got  up,  feeling  as  well  as  usual  and  went 
on.  It  was  not  long  before  I  commenced  to  feel  sleepy 
again.  On  ahead  I  saw  a  light  and  I  spoke  to  my  horse, 
4 'Fanny,  we  will  make  that  light  and  then  stop  for  the 


356  WINCHESTER. 


night."  I  turned  in  and  went  to  the  house.  A  man  was 
sitting  in  front  of  a  pile  of  turnips  and  was  cutting  off 
the  tops.  I  spoke  to  the  man,  saying,  "Good  evening. 
I  am  travelling  and  intended  to  have  made  Keene  to 
night,  but  something  peculiar  has  come  over  me.  I  am 
so  sleepy  that  I  drop  to  sleep  while  walking  beside  my 
horse.  I  stopped  a  short  distance  back  and  laid  down, 
and  I  at  once  fell  asleep  and  was  awakened  by  a  passing 
team.  I  got  up  and  came  on,  but  soon  the  sleepiness 
came  upon  me  again  and  your  light  brought  me  here. 
Can  I  lay  down  under  your  shed  awhile,  I  am  in  want  of 
rest.  I  have  been  travelling  continually  since  last  May, 
by  night  and  day."  "Where  did  you  start  from  last 
May?"  asked  the  stranger.  "From  Ogden,  Utah,"  I  re 
plied.  "That  is  a  long  distance  from  here,"  he  said. 
"About  three  thousand  miles,"  I  replied,  "Stranger, 
give  me  your  hand,"  he  said.  I  gave  him  my  hand. 
"Stranger,  I  will  call  you  comrade  as  3*011  have  given  me 
the  signs  of  the  Grand  Army.  I  thought  I  saw  your 
badge,  had  I  seen  it  sooner  I  would  have  given  }'ou  my 
hand  at  once.  Comrade,  what  department  do  you  be 
long  to?"  "I  belong  to  the  Massachusetts  department, 
Post  61,"  I  replied.  "Have  you  the  countersign?"  he 
asked.  "I  have  the  National  countersign,  but  not  the 
Post.  I  have  not  met  with  my  Post  for  several  years  ;  I 
suppose  I  have  been  suspended  for  non-payment  of  dues  ; 
you  understand  its  workings,"  I  replied.  "Comrade,  I 
have  room  in  my  barn  for  }*our  animals,  hay  and  grain, 
and  for  }rourself  a  good  bed  in  the  house  ;  so  much  I  can 
do  for  you,  and  it  is  with  pleasure  that  I  do  it."  After 
my  cattle  were  in  the  barn  and  well  cared  for,  we  went 
into  the  house.  "Wife,  this  stranger  is  a  great  traveller  ; 
he  sa}rs  he  has  come  fr>m  Ogden  here,  a  distance  of  three 
thousand  miles,"  said  the  comrade.  "I  think  I  read  in 
the  paper  of  a  man  travelling  from  California  to  Massa 
chusetts  with  a  horse  and  carriage,  leading  a  cow,"  said 


KEENE*  357 


the  wife.  "Comrade,  I  have  said  nothing  about  Califor 
nia,  but  I  will,  under  the  circumstances.  When  I  relate 
the  whole  story  it  makes  a  long  one,  and  should  I  ever 
write  it  on  paper  it  will  make  a  book  of  many  pages.  As 
I  have  just  said,  I  will  give  you  the  long  story.  One 
year  ago  last  June  I  left  Eureka,  Humboldt  Bay,  Califor 
nia,  for  Massachusetts.  Came  down  to  San  Francisco, 
three  hundred  and  three  miles,  on  the  overland  road,  so 
called.  From  San  Francisco  to  Ogden.  When  in  Ogden 
I  footed  up  one  thousand  four  huundred  and  thirty-seven 
miles  that  I  had  travelled.  In  Ogden  I  remained  nearly 
eight  months,  leaving  there  May  14th.  From  Ogden  here, 
about  three  thousand  miles.  My  travelling  road  is  many 
more  miles  than  the  railroad.  Remember,  stranger,  I  could 
give  you  the  items  on  this  long  journey  if  there  were  time. 
To-morrow  I  hope  to  make  Marlow,  about  eighteen  miles 
from  here.  In  Marlow  I  have  a  brother  and  sister,  with 
whom  I  intend  to  stop  over  Thanksgiving,  then  turn 
back  to  Keene,  and  on  to  Webster,  Mass."  "Comrade, 
my  wife  has  made  }rou  a  dish  of  tea  ;  sit  at  the  table  and 
take  some,  and  also  eat  of  what  is  on  the  table ;  help 
yourself."  I  took  the  seat  and  made  mj'self  acquainted 
with  such  as  I  desired.  "Comrade,  it  will  be  morning 
by-and-by,  and  I  would  like  }'ou  to  help  me  away  early. 
I  carry  tea,  coffee  and  sugar — }Tes,  and  milk.  I  have  not 
been  without  milk  since  leaving  California.  I  will  get  up 
and  feed  my  animals,  make  a  fire  and  cook  a  pot  of  coffee  ; 
you  need  not  get  up."  In  the  morning  the  lady 'did  not 
wait  for  me  to  make  the  fire  ;  no,  she  was  up  and  dressed 
and  ready  for  my  departure. 

Keene. — On  the  morning  of  the  6th,  after  being  enter 
tained  and  cared  for  by  a  Grand  Army  comrade  and  lady, 
I  left  for  Keene.  On  entering  the  city  I  was  met  by  a 
marshal  and  his  assistant  in  an  open  bugg}T.  We  passed 
the  compliments  of  the  day,  and  the  marshal  inquired, 


358  MARLOW. 


"Are  you  the  man  that  has  almost  travelled  across  the 
continent  with  that  outfit?"  "Yes,  sir;  I  am,"  I  re 
plied.  "We  were  notified  of  your  coming  to  the  cit}7 ;  go 
on  up  to  the  park  ;  we  would  like  to  meet  3*011  there," 
said  the  marshal.  I  went  along,  coming  to  the  park,  which 
was  filled  with  people,  eager  to  see  and  hear.  More  than 
four  thousand  three  hundred  miles  of  questions  were  asked 
and  answered.  While  I  was  entertaining  the  people,  a 
friend  of  mine,  an  old  acquaintance,  came  through  the 
crowd  to  me  and  said,  "Warren  B.,  is  this  }-ou,  all  the 
way  from  California?"  "Yes,  Charlie,  it  is  I."  "As 
soon  as  you  can  leave  these  people  come  up  to  my  house. 
Should  my  wife  learn  that  }TOU  are  here  she  would  be  here 
before  you  could  get  to  them."  About  eleven  o'clock 
I  left  the  people  and  went  up  to  my  friend  Charles'  house, 
where  I  remained  the  rest  of  the  day. 

Marlow. — Eight  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  7th  I  left 
Keene  for  Marlow.  About  twelve  o'clock  we  made  Gil- 
sum.  On  my  arrival  I  found  many  people  waiting  for  me. 
"What  does  this  mean?"  I  asked.  "Friend  traveller,  we 
received  a  dispatch  from  Keene  this  morning,  saying  the 
man  from  California,  across  the  continent  with  hi3  outfit, 
left  Keene  this  morning  for  Marlow,  and  would  arrive  in 
Gilsum  about  twelve  at  noon.  This  telegram  being  circula 
ted,  has  brought  out  this  gathering.  Stranger,  we  were 
anxious  to  see  you — the  man  that  has  travelled  across  the 
continent  with  a  horse  and  carriage,  cow  and  dog.  Yes, 
stranger,  we  have  assembled  here  for  this  purpose,  and  to 
congratulate  you  on  your  arrival.  You  have  accomplished 
a  great  undertaking  ;  we  are  not  able  to  grasp  it.  Stranger, 
come  down  to  the  hotel  and  get  some  refreshments ;  }'ou 
are  heartily  welcome."  We  went  to  the  hotel  and  took 
dinner.  After  dinner,  in  fact,  even  while  at  dinner,  many 
questions  were  asked.  I  disposed  of  them  satisfactorily. 
About  two  o'clock  1  asked  to  be  excused,  as  I  was  anxious 


MARLOW.  359 


to  reach  Marlow  that  day.  As  I  was  about  to  leave  three 
cheers  were  given  to  the  man  from  across  the  continent. 
I  stopped  and  said :  "Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  thank  you 
for  this  ovation ;  it  was  wholly  unexpected.  In  a  few 
days  I  will  return  and  see  you  again.  Good  afternoon." 
4 'Good  afternoon,  and  success  to  you,"  was  the  reply.  I 
left  just  at  two  o'clock.  About  six  o'clock,  as  I  was  about 
to  enter  Marlow,  I  was  met  by  a  delegation,  who  asked  for 
a  short  delay,  so  that  the  band,  with  a  delegation  of  citi 
zens,  might  have  the  time  to  come  and  escort  me  into  the 
town.  "Gentlemen,  this  is  wholly  unexpected.  This 
will  call  out  some  remarks  from  me  which  I  am  not  pre 
pared  for  at  this  time,  but  as  }'ou  are  wanting  something,  I 
know  not  what,  I  will  cheerfully  comply  with  your  re 
quest."  Not  long,  however,  before  I  saw  a  procession 
coming  towards  me  with  torches.  I  fell  in  their  rear  and 
soon  found  myself  in*  the  town,  directly  in  front  of  my 
brother  and  sister's  house.  "Stranger,"  said  the  marshal, 
"for  several  da}*s  we  have  been  looking  for  you.  We 
thought,  should  we  omit  the  holding  of  this  reception,  we 
would  never  have  another  opportunity  of  the  kind.  You,  a 
stranger,  travelling  across  the  continent  as  }"ou  have,  have 
accomplished  no  small  thing.  We  will  not  call  on  you 
to-night  for  any  remarks,  but  at  some  future  time,  before 
you  leave  the  town,  we  would  like  to  listen  to  you  in  re 
gard  to  the  many  things  that  must  have  transpired  or 
come  under  your  observation  while  on  your  long  journey.'* 
"Strangers,  I  thank  you  for  this  reception  ;  it  was  wholly 
unexpected ;  I  have  had  no  such  dreams  on  my  way. 
When  I  first  started  on  my  journey  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  would  take  things  as  they  came  and  dispose  of 
them  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  I  have  done  this,  and 
have  accomplished  that  which  I  was  told  could  not  be 
done.  Strangers,  you  have  surrounded  and  captured  me 
and  my  family  ;  we  surrender  and  ask  for  a  parole."  Three 
cheers  were  called  for  the  stranger  from  California  who 


360  MARLOW. 


has  crossed  the  continent ;  which  were  given,  and  the  com- 
Pany  dispersed  to  their  homes. 


CHAPTER  X. 


FROM  MARLOW,   NEW  HAMPSHIRE,    TO  WEBSTER,   AND 
WEBSTER  TO  LYNN,  MASSACHUSETTS,  AND  RETURN. 

On  the  7th  of  November,  1883,  I  arrived  in  Marlow, 
New  Hampshire.  It  was  my  intention  to  stop  here  four 
weeks,  to  pass  Thanksgiving  with  my  sister,  and  then 
return  en-route  to  Webster,  Massachusetts.  As  the  time 
was  expiring  and  just  as  I  was  about  to  leave  for  my 
home,  the  first  snow-storm  of  the  season  set  in,  so  I  was 
compelled  to  remain  until  the  first  of  May,  1884.  My 
stay  here  was  four  months  longer  than  I  intended  ;  being 
completely  snow-bound  that  length  of  time. 

Marlow  is  a  town  situated  in  the  most  northern  part  of 
Cheshire  county,  in  a  delightful  valley,  surrounded  by 
lofty  hills,  that  are  visible  for  miles.  It  has  two  churches, 
three  stores,  a  post-office,  a  hotel,  a  flouring  mill  and  a 
mill  for  cutting  lumber,  and  a  very  extensive  tannery, 
which  consumes  two  thousand  cords  of  bark  annually.  I 
was  told  that  the  celebrated  calf-skin,  known  as  the 
Wesson  Calf,  was  made  here.  This  tannery  gives  em 
ployment  to  many  people.  The  citizens  of  The  village  ar^ 
enterprising ;  their  houses  show  this.  In  painting  their 
buildings  they  use  white  lead,  instead  of  red,  with  a 
shading  of  green,  which  I  admired  much. 


TROY.  361 


Gilsum. — On  the  morning  of  the  5th  of  May,  1884,  I 
left  Marlow  for  Webster,  Massachusetts,  and  made  Troy 
the  same  day  ;  distance,  twentj^-eight  miles.  In  making 
Troy,  I  passed  through  the  town  of  Gilsum  and  the  city  of 
Keene.  Gilsum  is  a  manufacturing  town  with  much  en 
terprise.  In  1880  I  passed  through  this  place,  when  on 
my  way  to  California,  and  in  1883  on  my  return,  I  again 
passed  through.  I  knew  the  village,  by  some  old  land 
marks,  but  a  great  change  had  taken  place  and  many  new 
marks  were  to  be  seen,  that  showed  plainly  that  the  vil 
lagers  were  up  early  to  work  as  well  as  early  to  rest. 

Keene  is  a  beautiful  little  city,  with  a  population  of 
seven  thousand,  situated  in  a  valley,  surrounded  by  the 
hills  of  the  old  Granite  State,  midway  of  the  county,  and 
is  the  county  seat.  Entering  the  city  from  the  south  you 
cross  the  railroad  ;  in  your  front  is  a  fine  park,  not  large, 
but  lovely.  It  is  the  beautiful  shade  trees  that  make  it 
lovely. 


Troy. — On  the  morning  of  the  6th  I  left  Troy,  making 
Gardner  the  same  da}7 ;  distance,  twenty-two  miles,  pass 
ing  through  the  towns  of  Fitzwilliam  and  Winchendon. 
Troy  is  situated  in  the  southern  part  of  Cheshire  county, 
near  Monadnock  mountain,  on  the  Cheshire  railroad, 
about  ten  miles  from  Keene.  It  is  a  very  respectable 
town,  with  a  fine  hotel,  called  the  Monadnock  House. 
I  can  speak  well  of  the  house,  and  more  so  of  the  land 
lord,  because  I  and  my  family  were  well  entertained  there 
without  money  and  without  price. 

Fitzwilliam,  is  a  much  larger  town  than  Troy.  I  passed 
« Erectly  through,  making  no  stop.  I  noticed  that  it  pre 
tended  to  support  two  hotels.  I  went  on  as  I  was 
anxious  to  get  into  Massachusetts,  knowing  that  there  I 
should  have  good  roads,  which  New  Hampshire  did  not 


362  HOLDEN. 


have.  About  ten  o'clock  I  made  the  town  of  Winchendon 
where  we  took  dinner.  After  a  rest  of  two  hours  we 
moved  on,  having  a  splendid  road,  and  at  four  o'clock  we 
entered  Gardner,  making  only  a  short  stop,  and  then 
made  South  Gardner,  where  we  stopped  for  the  night ; 
making  mj'self  known  as  the  man  who  had  travelled 
almost  across  the  continent.  Quite  a  crowd  of  people 
gathered  around  me  to  learn  the  particulars,  which  con 
sumed  much  of  my  time.  The  landlord  said,  "Stranger^ 
our  supper  is  read}7 ;  you  must  be  in  need  of  something 
about  this  time."  I  answered,  "I  never  refuse.  I  have 
had  many  such  invitations,  but  never  refused.  Could  I 
have  had  such  when  crossing  the  Rocky  Mountains ;  but 
no,  nothing  of  the  kind  was  offered  me ;  not  even  a  house 
for  hundreds  of  miles."  "Stranger,  you  must  be  a  brick, 
well  burned,  to  have  accomplished  such  a  journey  across 
the  continent,  and  all  alone  at  that.  I  don't  think  that 
we  have  a  correct  idea  of  what  you  have  accomplished. 
Stranger,  go  to  the  barn  with  my  hostler  and  give  him  direc- 
t,ions  how  you  want  your  cattle  fed,  and  give  them  a  good 
bed.  Come  in  and  we  will  give  }TOU  a  good  bed,  we  will 
never  have  another  opportunity  to  do  so  under  the  same 
circumstances,"  said  the  landlord.  "No,  sir;  there  is  not 
another  man  that  would  be  so  foolish,"  I  answered.  "Not 
much  foolishness  about  it,  you  bet.  Stranger,  would  you 
travel  the  same  road  over  again?"  asked  the  landlord. 
"Landlord,  it  would  take  some  money  to  have  me  re 
turn  the  same  road,"  I  replied. 

Holden.—  On  the  morning  of  the  7th  I  left  South  Gard. 
ner,  making  Holden  the  same  day  ;  travelling  through  the 
towns  of  Hubbardston  and  Rutland,  arriving  in  Holden 
at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  in  a  rain-storm.  From 
Gardner  to  Hubbardston  my  road  was  good,  and  from 
Hubbardston  to  Holden  it  was  not  as  good,  as  it  was  hilly 
and  rough  over  the  cut-off.  On  my  arrival  in  Holden  I 


WEBSTER.  363 


stopped  with  an  old  friend,  formerly  of  Webster,  for  the 
night. 

The  morning  of  the  8th  dawned  on  a  rainy  day,  which 
continued  throughout  the  whole  day,  yet  the  day  passed 
by  with  much  interest.  So  many  questions  to  ask  and  to 
answer  that  consumed  much  time.  Some  of  the  time  was 
passed  on  the  hay  mow,  fast  asleep,  and  some  in  cleaning 
the  harness  and  other  needed  things. 

jSincrott  Library 

Webster. — On  the  morning  of  the  9th  I  was  up  and 
around  early,  anxious  to  see  my  old  home  again.  I  fed 
my  animals,  greased  the  wagon  axles  and  was  all  ready 
to  start  onward,  with  twenty-five  miles  between  me  and 
home  and  much  mud  to  encounter.  I  left  Holden  just  at 
six  o'clock  and  was  advised  to  take  the  old  road  to  Wor 
cester,  eight  miles  distant ;  more  hills,  but  less  mud.  I 
took  the  old  road  and  went  on.  About  nine  o'clock  I 
was  within  the  limits  of  the  city,  and  on  coming  to  the 
Boulevard,  I  stopped  to  consider  whether  I  should  go 
through  the  city  or  around  it.  1  reasoned  thus :  If  I 
made  an  attempt  to  go  through  the  cit}^,  I  would  not  be 
able  to  reach  home;  if  I  go  around,  I  would  not  be  de 
tained  by  the  people,  and  I  would  be  able  to  reach  home. 
So  I  turned  into  the  Boulevard  and  went  into  the  city  ;  on 
coming  to  the  cemetery  I  stopped  and  fed  my  cattle  with 
grain,  myself  and  dog  with  cold  boiled  ham,  brown  bread 
and  hot  coffee.  After  a  stop  of  one  hour  we  went  on, 
passing  on  to  North  Auburn  and  on  to  Oxford.  Here  we 
stopped,  because  we  could  go  no  further,  as  we  were  sur 
rounded  by  many  of  my  old  friends  and  acquaintances, 
who  had  been  looking  for  us  for  weeks.  Some  of  these 
were  from  Webster.  While  in  Oxford  a  dispatch  was 
sent  to  Webster,  saying,  "The  man  from  California, 
across  the  continent,  with  horse,  carriage,  cow  and  dog, 
is  now  in  Oxford,  on  his  way  to  Webster  and  will  arrive 
there  about  seven  p.  m."  I  went  on,  amid  cheers  that 


364  WEBSTER. 


were  being  given  for  the  man  from  California,  across  the 
continent.  About  two  miles  from  Webster,  an  escort  of 
carriages  was  in  waiting,  and  a  little  further,  an  escort 
on  foot  was  in  waiting.  On  my  arrival  in  the  town, 
before  I  reached  Main  street,  I  was  surrounded  by  hun 
dreds,  I  could  scarcely  move.  I  remained  on  Main  street 
for  a  long  time.  Salutations  of  all  kinds  were  given  me, 
shaking  of  hands  ;  "How  are  you,  Johnson  ;  you  have  ar 
rived,  you  old  hero  ;  Johnson,  you  beat  the  d — 1  all  hol 
low  ;  we  knew  you  would  make  it ;  we  said  you  would 
come  through,  and  you  have."  "Gentlemen,  please  give 
way  and  let  the  man  pass  on  up  to  the  Joslin  House,"  said 
a  voice  in  the  crowd.  I  went  on  to  the  Joslin  House  and 
stopped.  "Gentlemen,"  said  the  same  voice,  "he  has  ar 
rived  ;  look  at  him,  do  you  know  him?  It  is  Warren  B. 
Johnson,  he  is  one  of  our  old  citizens  ;  he  helped  to  make 
this*town  of  Webster.  He  went  out  to  California,  but  a 
short  time  ago  and  has  returned  home,  not  the  same  way 
he  went,  by  rail,  but  on  foot.  He  has  crossed  the  contin 
ent  with  that  horse  and  carriage,  leading  that  cow  more 
than  four  thousand  five  hundred  miles.  On  foot,  remem 
ber,  not  by  rail ;  how  does  he  look?"  "All  right,"  said 
another  voice  from  the  crowd.  "Yes,  gentlemen,  he  looks 
all  right.  I  do  not  think  there  is  another  man  living  that 
could  have  done  what  he  has.  Gentlemen,  I  will  make 
you  acquainted  with  Warren  B.  Johnson,  the  man  that 
has  almost  crossed  the  American  continent,  from  Califor 
nia  to  Massachusetts."  "Gentlemen,  friends  and  stran 
gers,  the  remarks  friend  Shumway  has  made,  were  most  of 
them  correct.  Where  he  sa}Ts  there  is  not  a  man  living  that 
could  have  done  this,  we  will  strike  out.  Gentlemen,  I 
wish  to  be  excused  from  saying  much  to-night.  I  have 
travelled  from  Holden  to-day,  eight  miles  beyond  Worces 
ter  and  am  not  in  tune  to  play  the  music,  but  can  say  this 
much,  that  the  reception  given  me  to-night^  is  no  smaji 
reception.  I  have  not  the  language  to  express  to  you  my 


WEBSTER. 


365 


feelings.  This  ovation  was  wholly  unexpected.  I  will 
say,  however,  at  some  future  time,  I  will  give  you  a  his 
tory  of  my  travels,  which  no  doubt  will  be  interesting  to 
you  all."  Three  cheers  for  the  man  that  has  crossed  the 
continent  from  the  Pacific  to  the  Atlantic,  was  called  for 
and  given,  after  which  I  drove  into  H.  I.  Joslin's  stables 
and  put  up  for  the  night.  For  several  days  after  my  ar 
rival  at  home,  the  people  came  long  distances  to  see  me 
and  the  animals,  that  had  travelled  almost  from  ocean  to 
ocean.  All  kinds  of  questions  were  asked  and  I  enter 
tained  them  with  pleasure.  The  question  was  asked, 
"Did  you  keep  a  daily  record  of  your  travels, 'if  so,  make 
a  book  of  them,*  it  must  make  an  interesting  book." 
Some  would  add,  "There  is  money  to  be  made  in  the  book  t 
and  you  are  the  man  that  should  be  benefitted  by  it." 
This  prompted  me  not  to  stop  at  Webster,  but  go  on  and 
make  the  Atlantic  ocean.  Then  I  could  truly  say,  that  I 
had  crossed  the  American  continent,  from  ocean  to  ocean. 
Before  leaving  Webster  I  had  fully  decided  on  the  place  I 
would  make  the  ocean  ;  some  of  my  friends  desired  me  to 
make  it  at  Plymouth,  as  Plymouth  was  aq  historic  place. 
My  desire  was  to  make  the  ocean  at  Lynn,  as  I  could 
reach  it  in  two  day's  less  travel. 

On  the  morning  of  June  llth,  I  left  Webster  for  the 
Atlantic  coast.  After  travelling  about  two  miles  I  came 
to  two  roads  ;  to  the  right  was  Plymouth,  and  to  the  left 
was  Lynn.  I  stopped  and  hesitated  which  of  the  two 
roads  to  take.  I  did  not  stop  long,  and  took  the  road  for 
Lynn.  I  went  on  to  West  Sutton  and  stopped  directly 
in  front  of  a  blacksmith's  shop.  "Can  I  get  that  cow 
shod?"  I  asked.  "No,  sir,"  replied  the  blacksmith.  I 
went  on  about  three  miles  and  coming  to  the  town  of 
Sutton,  stopping  again  in  front  of  a  blacksmith's  shop.  I 
asked,  "Will  you  shoe  that  cow  for  me?"  "Yes,  sir  ;  I 
will,"  said  the  blacksmith.  I  led  the  cow  into  the  brake 


366  WESTBOROUGH. 


and  made  her  fast  to  the  stanchions.  "Will  she  let  me 
shoe  her?"  asked  the  blacksmith.  "Yes,  sir,  she  will; 
she  will  behave  like  a  lady,"  I  replied.  "Did  she  ever 
have  shoes  on  her  feet  before?"  asked  the  blacksmith. 
"Yes,  she  has  worn  shoes  many  miles.  Perhaps  you 
don't  know  that  that  cow  has  travelled  almost  across  the 
continent,"  I  remarked.  "Is  that  the  cow  the  papers 
said  so  much  about?"  asked  the  blacksmith.  "That  is 
the  California  cow,"  I  answered.  "Where  are  you  going 
with  her?"  asked  the  blacksmith.  "I  am  on  my  way  to 
Lynn,"  I  replied.  I  left  Button  about  twelve  o'clock  and 
about  three  o'clock  I  passed  through  Grafton. 

Grafton  is  a  fine  town,  one  of  the  leading  towns  in  the 
State,  with  much  wealth  and  enterprise ;  the  towns  are 
scarce  that  can  come  up  to  it.  About  seven  p.  m.,  I 
made  Westborough.  Here  I  stopped  for  the  night,  with 
an  old  New  England  Farmer.  Every  thing  free  as  usual,' 
costs  nothing  to  travel ;  that  is,  it  costs  me  nothing. 

Westborough. — On  the  morning  of  the  12th,  after 
breakfast,  we  went  to  the  centre  of  the  town  and  I 
made  a  call  on  friend  "Judd,"  formerly  of  my  own  town. 
Westborough  is  a  fine  town,  none  in  the  county  a  head  of 
it ;  none  in  the  county  is  equal  to  it  in  beauty  and  enter- 
prize.  There  are  towns  much  larger,  but  they  always  fall 
behind  the  smaller  towns.  Stand  in  front  of  the  Whitney 
House,  where  do  you  find  another  that  is  equal  to  it  in 
the  county  ?  I  did  not  find  it  on  my  long  journey  ;  I  have 
passed  through  hundreds  of  towns.  Coming  through 
Illinois,  I  passed  through  the  town  of  Princeton,  it  was 
prince  of  princes.  I  am  on  my  way  to  Lynn.  If  I  find 
a  town  that  surpasses  Westborough,  I  will  give  it  notice. 
About  nine  o'clock  we  went  on,  it  was  a  very  warm  morn 
ing  and  about  eleven  we  came  to  a  fine  shade,  where  we 
stopped,  it  being  too  hot  to  travel.  A  little  distance 


WALTHAM.  367 


above  was  a  house ;  the  man  of  the  house  came  down 
to  where  we  were  resting.  "Stranger,"  said  the  man, 
"you  are  travelling,  it  seems.  A  very  hot  day  to  travel 
with  that  cow."  "Very  hot  indeed,"  I  replied.  "Stranger, 
move  up  to  the  house,  I  have  a  good  shade  forjxwr  cattle. 
I  will  give  them  some  dinner,  and  yourself  also,"  said  the 
man.  "Thank  you,  I  will,"  I  answered.  We  went  to 
the  house  and  a  good  dinner  was  the  result.  About  two 
o'clock  we  went  on,  it  was  very  hot,  almost  suffocating. 
About  four  o'clock  we  passed  through  Southboro.  This 
is  a  line  town,  with  some  very  fine  shade  trees  ;  but  it  is 
situated  too  far  from  the  Boston  and  Albany  Railroad. 
All  towns  and  parts  of  towns  that  stand  on  the  Boston 
and  Albany  Railroad  do  grow  wonderfully.  About  five 
o'clock  we  passed  through  the  town  of  Framingham.  I 
merely  stopped  to  give  my  animals  water  and  then  went 
on.  Framingham  is  an  old  town,  no  older  than  others, 
but  when  a  railroad  cuts  through  a  portion  of  a  town  like 
this,  it's  gone  up  to  rise  no  more.  About  eight  o'clock 
we  made  Cochituate  and  stopped  for  the  night.  This  was 
a  rational  stop  ;  it  was  at  the  right  time  and  at  the  right 
place.  My  regards  to  my  friend  Lyon  and  lad}r,  for  their 
hospitality.  Cochituate  we  will  call  a  fine  town.  I  only 
know  it  from  reputation  ;  I  entered  late  at  night  and  left 
it  earl}*,  therefore,  I  can't  judge,  personally.  I  can  and 
do  say,  that  friend  Lyon  and  lady  has  the  finest  house, 
inside,  that  I  have  entered,  and  I  have  entered  several, 
but  not  with  false  keys. 

Waltham.—  On  the  morning  of  the  13th  we  left  Cochit 
uate,  but  not  until  we  all  had  breakfasted.  The  lad}', 
Mrs.  I/yon,  insisted  on  my  sta}'ing  to  breakfast  and  I  was 
obliged  to  comply  with  her  request ;  I  could  not  consist 
ently  decline.  Our  next  stop  was  at  Waltham,  the 
day  being  so  exceedingly  hot  that  I  could  not  travel » 
yet  I  was  able  to  make  the  town  and  go  into 


368  WALTHAM. 


camp.  While  in  camp  I  was  reminded  of  a  gentle 
man  that  went  from  my  town  to  Waitham,  by  the  name 
of  Graves.  I  made  inquiries  and  found  that  my  camp  was 
but  eight  rods  from  his  house.  I  called  at  the  house, 
finding  no  one  at  home,  I  went  to  the  next  house,  and 
was  informed  that  Mr.  Graves'  place  of  business  was 
down  town  and  his  lady  had  not  returned  from  a  ride. 
As  soon  as  Mrs.  Graves  returned,  she  was  informed 
of  my  calling  and  made  haste  to  meet  me ;  we  both 
were  glad  at  the  meeting.  "Mr.  Johnson,  sir;  can 
this  be  thee?"  said  Mrs?  Graves.  "It  is  I,"  I  replied. 
"And  where  are  you  going  with  your  animals?"  she 
asked.  "I  am  on  my  wa\r  to  Lynn  ;  to  make  the  Atlantic 
Ocean.  I  started  from  the  Pacific  and  am  anxious  to 
make  the  Atlantic,  so  that  I  can  give  my  book  the  title, 
'From  the  Pacific  to  the  Atlantic.'"  "And  you  are 
going  to  make  a  book  of  jour  travels,  are  you?"  asked 
Mrs.  Graves.  "I  am,"  I  replied.  "Mr.  Johnson,  I 
want  a  book*  it  must  be  an  interesting  book,"  said  Mrs. 
Graves.  "Where  is  your  husband,  Mrs.  Graves?"  I 
asked.  "He  is  down  town  ;  he  will  be  home  soon,'  it  is 
time  for  him  now  ;  here  he  is.  Mr.  Graves,  come  here, 
quickly !"  said  Mrs.  Graves.  He  came,  and  after  the 
usual  greeting,  he  said,  "How  are  }*ou,  Mr.  Johnson?" 
"I  am  well,  thank  }rou,"  I  replied.  "And  here  is  the 
California  cow.  Mr.  Johnson,  where  are  you  going?" 
asked  Mr.  Graves.  "I  am  on  my  way  to  Lynn,  to  make 
the  Atlantic,  so  as  to  give  my  book  the  title,  'From  the 
Pacific  to  the  Atlantic,' "  I  answered.  "I  see.  Wile, 
how  about  your  supper?"  inquired  Mr.  Graves.  "I  came 
here  as  soon  as  I  returned  from  riding  ;  I  did  not  even  go 
into  the  house,  and  have  been  here  ever  since  that  time," 
replied  Mrs.  Graves.  "I  think,  Mr.  Johnson  would  like 
some  supper,"  said  Mr.  Graves.  "I  will  go  in  and  get 
the  tea  ready,"  she  answered.  It  was  not  long  before 
the  bell  sounded  for  tea.  "Mr.  Johnson,  the  bell  says 


LYNN.  369 


tea  is  ready,4  we  will  go  and  see  what  the  lady  has  to  say 
about  it,"  said  Mr.  Graves.  We  went  in  and  Mrs.  Graves 
said,  "Come,  husband;  come,  Mr.  Johnson,  and  please 
take  that  seat."  I  took  the  seat,  a  fine  chair,  in  the  centre 
of  the  table.  On  the  table  stood  a  dish  of  fine  straw 
berries,  with  cream.  In  the  rear  was  a  plate  of  bread 
and  a  dish  of  butter.  The  strawberries'  left  and  right 
flanks  were  supported  by  two  batteries  of  cake,  which  did 
excellent  service.  When  through  supper,  I  said  to  Mrs. 
Graves,  "You  have  given  us  a  good  supper,  well  done." 
"Thank  you,  Mr.  Johnson,  I  think  you  are  deserving  of 
as  good  as  you  have  had." 

Lynn. — On  the  morning  of  the  14th  I  left  Waltham 
for  Lynn,  travelling  through  the  towns  of  Watertown, 
Brighton,  Cambridge,  East  Cambridge,  Somerville  and 
Everett,  arriving  in  Lynn  at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
On  my  arrival,  I  travelled  directly  to  the  beach.  I  could 
not  get  over  the  breakwater,  down  to  the  Atlantic's 
waters.  I  returned  to  the  Ocean  House,  receiving  per 
mission  to  pass  through  the  gate  and  down  on  the  beach, 
and  into  the  Atlantic's  waters.  While  this  ceremony  was 
being  performed,  there  was  but  one  person  that  witnessed 
the  performance.  I  returned  to  the  city,  feeding  my 
cattle  and  left  for  Webster,  returning  to  Everett  where  I 
camped  for  the  night,  and  ultimately  reached  Webster  all 
right ;  thus  finishing  my  journey  from  the  Pacific  to  the 
Atlantic,  without  any  serious  mishap  or  accident  to  make 
me  regret  my  long  and  perilous  overland  journey. 


JOHN  HOWELL 
IMPORTER 


